


Fëangren

by lindirs_gaze



Series: Iron and Ice [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hints of Bagginshield, M/M, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, the durins live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 103,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7325419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindirs_gaze/pseuds/lindirs_gaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think...enigma."<br/>“You what?”<br/>“I take back what I said about you being strange. I believe enigma is the better word.”<br/>“Enigma.” Holly allowed herself a small smile. “I think your insults are getting worse.”</p><p> </p><p>(Follows the Quest for Erebor. Slow burn.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Quest of a Kingdom

**PART I: SPITE**

_ “Undoubtedly love, like pity...had never been anything but a fiction invented by the weak to make the strong feel guilty, to introduce limits to their natural freedom and ferocity.” —Michel Houellebecq;  _ _ The Possibility of an Island _

**Chapter 1: In Quest of a Kingdom**

Holly Galafin rapped on the top of the counter to get the innkeeper’s attention.

He turned to her, a friendly smile lifting his mustache. “Well, hello there, little lady. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a mage. He passed through here a couple of days ago. Blond hair, about six feet tall, scar on the right side of his face.”

The man paled. “W-What do you be wantin’ with a mage?” No doubt he felt uncomfortable acknowledging any ‘strange folk’ visiting his inn. But she didn’t expect anything less from a man with a below-average intelligence living on the western border of the Shire. The innkeeper glanced around the bar, searching the faces of the patrons. “Where are your parents?”

“I’m not a child.” Holly sighed and shifted, trying to hide the fact that she was standing on her toes. People always made that assumption, given her height, and it brought her no end of irritation.

“Are you a dwarf, then?” the innkeeper asked, trying to change the subject.

“No.” She contorted her expression so it resembled what most people considered to be ‘polite’. “My apologies. You see, I was asking around for my friend, and I was told that he was headed for the nicest tavern in Michel Delving, but…” She sent a pointed glance toward the door. “I suppose I could have been mistaken. Your poor grammar gave it away, really. Good day.”

“Now, just wait a second!” The innkeeper leaned over the counter, mustache bristling. Holly wasn’t aware that mustaches could do such a thing, but there it was.

“Really, it’s all right,” she said with what she hoped was a convincing smile. “I’ll try the inn down the street.”

“There’ll be no need for that.” The innkeeper leaned back and rummaging around for something under the counter. He slapped a book down onto the wood and opened it. “Alden Blackthorn, is it? That’s who you want?”

Holly couldn’t help it. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“He died a couple of days ago. Found in his bed with his throat slit.” The man gave her a stern look. “Nasty business. Don’t you get mixed up in that sort of thing.”

Holly hissed out a curse and backed away from the counter. She’d gotten a bit too ‘mixed up’ in the issue already.

Alden Blackthorn was a necromancer, and though she’d never met him in person, she’d been hoping he could give her some advice. Necromancers were supposed experts on dark magic, after all. But someone had already found him. Perhaps he had faked his death, but that would mean he wanted to stay hidden, and she would have little luck in finding him now.

She didn’t have any other leads, either. Necromancers weren’t exactly common in Middle Earth.

“Indeed. It would not be wise to meddle with forces you do not understand.”

Holly turned at the sound of a new voice. The innkeeper had moved on to help one of the customers, leaving her alone at the counter with an old man. Her gaze flicked over his worn gray robe, unkempt beard, and walking stick. There were only two kinds of people who tended to dress like that—wizards and homeless men. And she doubted the latter would take to wearing such a ridiculous hat. Wizard, then.

Perhaps he could be of some use.

\---

They took a seat in a quiet area of the tavern. Holly drummed her fingers on the table, meeting the wizard’s gaze with a cool stare.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you talking with Mr. Elmwood. You are looking for a mage, are you not?” His expression became stern. “And a necromancer, at that. Certainly not the sort of company one such as yourself should be involved with.”

“One such as myself?” Holly raised an eyebrow. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know as much as Lord Elrond has told me,” he said.

Holly glanced towards the exit, her tapping fingers going still. “Did he send you after me just because I left without saying goodbye?”

“He does not blame you for leaving so abruptly. But he has uncovered new information regarding your...condition, and he asks that you return to Rivendell to hear it.”

Holly relaxed a little. She didn’t care whether or not she’d offended the elf, but consulting him for more information was preferable to chasing down necromancers. The only thing she had left to verify was her source. “And who exactly has he sent to tell me this?”

The wizard inclined his head. “My apologies. I am Gandalf the Gray.”

She recognized the name. Everyone wrote stories and told tales of a tall gray wizard who could conjure a crackle of lightning with a wave of his staff. But after meeting him in person, she doubted the texts she’d read had been entirely accurate.

“I will be passing through Rivendell within the next few weeks,” Gandalf continued. “If you choose to answer Lord Elrond’s summons, I will escort you myself.”  

“I don’t need an escort.”

“The roads are dangerous nowadays,” he said, his tone suggesting he wasn’t really asking so much as telling. “There have been several orc sightings on the Great East Road.”

She had heard the same, though she’d been lucky enough to avoid running into any orcs. Even so, it wasn’t wise for her to tempt fate when a wizard was offering to accompany her free of charge. She would have to swallow her pride for now and hope his staff wasn’t just for decoration. “All right. I’m ready to leave now if you are.”

“I have some rather pressing business to attend to, actually. But there will be a gathering next week in the hobbit hole known as Bag End. I will be meeting a group of dwarves there, and they will be traveling with us.”

Holly held back a grimace. Dwarves weren’t exactly a deal-breaker, but she wished he hadn’t withheld that bit of information until after she’d agreed to travel with him. “And where is this Bag End?”

“It is a few days away on foot. You will find it in Hobbiton, at the top of the hill. I will leave a mark on the door. Good day.” The wizard stood up and left the tavern.

Holly watched him go. Two months ago, she never would have predicted that a wizard would offer her help. Though much had changed since she had arrived at Rivendell. She had been completely blind about her condition when she had consulted Elrond, with only strange, ominous nightmares as evidence that anything was wrong with her. His diagnosis had disturbed her and, admittedly, frightened her into leaving Rivendell at a rather unconventional time of night.

Hopefully whatever he had uncovered was good news for her. She didn’t like to think what would happen if it wasn’t.

\---

Bag End was easy enough to find. It was situated on top of a hill, and visible from nearly anywhere in Hobbiton. As Holly approached, she noted the glowing rune etched onto the round front door. It appeared she was in the right place. She slid off her pony and fastened its reins to a nearby tree. 

Holly walked to the front door and placed one hand on the polished doorknob, the light of the moon mingling with the brassy metal. As the door opened, the sounds of merriment flooded into the quiet Shire air. Holly inched into the house. A pile of dwarvish weapons lay in a heap next to the door—apparently most of the guests had already arrived. 

A loud thumping noise sounded from farther inside the house, followed by peals of drunken laughter. Holly suppressed a sigh. She’d been in enough taverns to know what happened when dwarves got their hands on a barrel of ale.

She walked through a doorway and froze as a tomato flew threw the air, missing her head by mere inches. A group of dwarves sat around the dining room table, involved in what appeared to be an amalgam of a feast and a food fight. 

“Hello there, lass!” One of the dwarves grinned at her, adjusting a ridiculous-looking hat. The rest had turned to look at her as well.

“You must be Mrs. Baggins.”

Their host’s wife, she assumed.  _ As if. _ And was she really so short that she could be mistaken for a hobbit? 

Holly stepped into the room and straightened her shoulders. “You’re mistaken. I’m here because Gandalf invited me.” She felt the muscles in her jaw constrict. Everyone was staring at her.

“Ah, Holly, glad to see you could make it.” The aforementioned wizard appeared, ducking through one of the low arching doorways. Holly decided this would be the first and last time she was glad to see the wizard.

“Allow me to introduce the others: Fíli, Kíli, Dori, Nori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dwalin, Balin, Óin, and Glóin.” After the man had assigned a name to each of the twelve dwarves in the room, Holly introduced herself. A few of the dwarves nodded at her, while others merely stared. Holly stood still, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come and get some supper,” the dwarf named Dori waved her over. The other dwarves resumed their conversations, and Holly let out a small sigh of relief. She walked into the dining room. Perhaps she could grab some food and make it out of the room with minimum casualties to her dignity.

“You’re a human, then?”

“Clearly.” Holly turned to see who had asked. It was a red-haired dwarf, the one named Glóin.

“I thought their women were supposed to be taller,” he said. 

She lifted her chin, a biting remark on the tip of her tongue, but another dwarf intervened before she speak.

“That’s where you’re mistaken, my friend.” Another redhead, this one named Nori, clapped Glóin on the shoulder. “Human women come in all shapes and sizes.” He winked at her. “Can’t blame a married dwarf for forgetting such things now and then, aye?”

Glóin grunted and turned to talk to someone else.

Nori stuck out his hand. “Well met. I’m Nori.”

She shook it. “I know.” 

“Well, what do you think?” Nori gestured to the chaos around them with his mug of ale. He didn’t react when a bit of it sloshed over the side, and she suspected this was not his first drink either. “You seem like the type to enjoy parties. I hope we aren’t too dull for you.”

Holly wasn’t sure how to reply for a moment. “Well, the party itself isn’t dull at all, I assure you. I haven’t quite passed judgement on you lot yet.” She glanced across the table, where Kíli was trying to balance a boiled egg on his nose.

Nori didn’t look offended at all. But before he could reply, a roll smacked him right in the temple, distracting him and giving Holly a chance to escape into a nearby hallway. Dinner could wait—she wasn’t hungry anyway.

“Enjoying yourself so far?” 

Holly turned to Gandalf with a frown. “There’s no need to patronize me.” She glanced back at the dining room, where the dwarves had resumed their rowdy behavior. “What sort of gathering is this, anyway?”

“The dwarves are planning an...undertaking of sorts. However, we are waiting for one other person. Once he arrives, the discussion will begin. You are welcome to stay for that, if you’d like.”

A hobbit hole was an odd place for dwarves to congregate, and the fact piqued her interest. Hopefully the dwarves would settle down for this discussion. She would just have to stay out of their way until then. “Well, I don’t have anywhere else to be.” 

Gandalf nodded, satisfied. “Good. Have you met Bilbo yet?”

Holly presumed he was referencing the owner the house. “No, I haven’t.” Would she have to talk to him too?

“Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!”

Apparently she wouldn’t get a choice in the matter. They both turned as a hobbit marched into the hallway, fists clenched in frustration.

“Impressive vocabulary,” she said, making him look up. 

When he saw her, his shoulders rose with increasing exasperation. “Wha—who are you?”

Holly mustered all the amiability she possessed. “Holly Galafin.” She held out her hand.

He hesitated, then seemed to recover and shook it. “Bilbo Baggins. Uh, nice to meet you.”

“Hm.” It didn’t seem like it. 

He released her hand with a slight nod and turned to the wizard. “Gandalf, there is a slight problem.”

“My dear Bilbo, what on Earth is the matter?”

“What’s the matter? I’m surrounded by dwarves. What are they  _ doing _ here?”

Holly raised an eyebrow. Had they all just walked into his house uninvited?

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them,” Gandalf said. His sheepish expression made it quite clear that he had been the one to invite the dwarves into Bag End.

“I don’t  _ want _ to get used to them.” Bilbo raised a finger in a manner of indignation only a hobbit could express. “The state of my kitchen! There’s mud trod into the carpet, they’ve p-pillaged the pantry, and I’m not even going to tell you what they’ve done to the bathroom. They’ve all but destroyed the plumbing. I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!”

Before Gandalf could say anything, Ori shuffled in, clutching a green dish. 

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?”

“Here, Ori, give it to me.” Fíli sauntered in and took the plate, throwing it to Kíli, who threw it to someone else in the kitchen. 

“E-Excuse me, that’s my mother’s West Farthing crockery! It’s over one hundred years old!” Bilbo scrambled after the dwarves to rescue his plate.

Curious, Holly followed him into the dining room. Dori, Glóin, Bofur, and Nori were thumping out a rhythm on the table with the silverware.

“And c-can you not do that?” Bilbo said. “You’ll blunt them!”

“Ooh, d’you hear that, lads?” Bofur grinned. “He says we’ll blunt the knives!”

Holly backed out of the way as a bowl flew past her head. If they started  _ singing _ like bards at a festival…

“ _ Blunt the knives, bend the forks… _ ”

Their singing grew louder as more of Bilbo’s dishware became airborne. The song dissolved into laughter, which dissolved into silence as three loud knocks resounded from the front door.

“He is here,” Gandalf said.

They all shuffled into the foyer, and Bilbo opened the door. The newcomer—another dwarf—stepped inside and nodded to the wizard in greeting. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I would not have found it at all, had it not been for the mark on the door.”

“Mark?” Bilbo pushed his way through the crowd of dwarves and stood in the center of the room. “There is no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago.”

The dwarf looked Bilbo up and down as though sizing him up, though there wasn’t much to size up. He began pacing around Bilbo, continuing his examination without much subtlety. “So, this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“P-Pardon me?”

“Axe or sword, what is your weapon of choice?”

Bilbo lifted his chin and met the dwarf’s gaze. “Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that’s—why that’s relevant.”

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” he said, causing the other dwarves to chuckle. His eyes locked onto Holly. “Gandalf. You made no mention of a girl.”

“She will merely be traveling with us for a short time, Thorin. She can be trusted. But I think that is best to be discussed once you’ve had something to eat,” Gandalf said.

So everyone shuffled back into the dining room. The dwarves sat around the now-cleared table as Bombur served Thorin some leftover soup. 

Holly stood off to the side. She cast a curious glance at Gandalf, wondering why he’d felt the need to assure Thorin of her trustworthiness. Perhaps the dwarves were planning some sort of criminal enterprise—that could be interesting. The wizard, however, did not meet her gaze.

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?” Balin asked.

“Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms,” Thorin replied.

“What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Are they with us?” Dwalin asked.

“They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.” 

“You’re going on a quest?” Bilbo asked.

“Aye, the portents say it is time. Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain,” Óin replied. “ _ When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast shall end _ .” 

Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Beast? What beast?”

“Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible,” Bofur informed him. 

To their credit, the dwarves had managed to sober up considerably from their raucous actions earlier that evening. Holly scrapped her earlier thought about crime. It seemed they were planning to march upon Erebor, the great dwarvish kingdom that had been conquered by the dragon nearly two hundred years ago. 

Bofur continued, “He is the chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Teeth like razors, claws like meathooks—”

“Yes, I know what a dragon is,” Bilbo said.

“I must warn all of you: the task would be nearly impossible with an army behind us,” Balin said. “But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor the brightest.”

_ That’s for sure _ , Holly agreed. Unless they were planning to sing the dragon to death. 

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!” Fíli’s statement prompted several determined nods around the table.

“And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time,” Kíli said.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t say that,” Gandalf began, but the dwarves were too excited by this point to pay attention to him.

“We may have a chance yet, lads!” Glóin banged his fist on the table.

“Wrong.”

Fifteen heads turned to Holly, who regarded them with raised eyebrows. “If you think you lot have a shot at this, you’re wrong. Optimism, which you all seem to have an overabundance of, won’t get you anywhere. Nor will all the dwarf armies in the world. Defeating a dragon is impossible, unless you’ve some sort of secret weapon that I’ve yet to hear about.”

Several mouths opened in protest to her speech, but it wasn’t as though they could say anything. She was speaking with a logical point of view, from which her observations would be irrefutable.

“The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years,” Thorin said, fixing her with a look that was not quite a glare. He turned back to the others, as if that statement alone had been enough to dismiss hers. “Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?” His voice escalated into a determined cry as the dining room echoed with the cheering of the dwarves. “ _ Du bekar! Du bekar! _ ”

Holly let her shoulders fall into a more relaxed posture. They were tenacious—she would give them that. But that would only get them so far. 

Balin’s voice managed to calm the dwarves from their revelry. “You forget, the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf pulled a coal-black key out of his sleeve with an air of what Holly supposed was meant to be mystery.

Thorin’s eyes widened. “How came you by this?”

“It was given to me by your father, Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now.” The wizard handed Thorin the key. Thirteen shining pairs of eyes stared at the object.

“If there’s a key, there must be a door,” Fíli said.

Holly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This meeting was becoming a bit tedious.

“The runes speak of a passage into the lower halls,” Gandalf said. “But I do not know where to find this passage. However, there are others in Middle Earth who may have the skill to read this map. The quest ahead of us will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. If we are careful and clever, I believe it may be done.”

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori said.

All eyes turned to Bilbo, who nodded. “Hm. A good one too. An expert, I’d imagine.”

“And are you?” Óin asked, adjusting his ear trumpet.

“A-Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert, lads!” Óin’s comment caused several of the dwarves to laugh.

“W-What? Me? No, no, I’m not an expert.” Bilbo wrung his hands.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He hardly seems like burglar material,” Balin said. 

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves,” Dwalin said with a warning glare in Bilbo’s direction.

This sparked several conversations between the individual dwarves which might have escalated into a full-blown argument had Gandalf not intervened. 

“ _ Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is! _ ” The wizard’s form seemed to grow taller as he cast shadows around the room. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, and can pass unseen if they choose,” he said in a milder tone as he sat back down. “And the smell of a hobbit would be all but unknown to a dragon. You have asked me to find a fourteenth member for our company and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There is a lot more to him than meets the eye.”

“Fine. We’ll do it your way,” Thorin said. “Give him the contract.”

“No, no, no—” 

Balin handed Bilbo a piece of parchment. When he unfolded it, the paper stretched down to the floor.

Thorin turned to Holly. “And what of the girl?”

“I do, in fact, have a name—”

“She has business in Rivendell, and I have offered to escort her there,” Gandalf said before she could start an argument herself. 

Thorin shook his head. “She will only slow us down.”

“And how do you figure that?” Holly asked, making him turn. “I know well enough how to travel and survive in the wild.”

“But you’re only a child,” Bofur said.

“I am well into my adult years, actually,” Holly said, feeling tension bunch up in her shoulders. It wasn’t as though she wanted to prove anything to them. But she wasn’t going to have this lot believe that she was anything less than full-grown (in age, if nothing else).

“Then how come you’re so short?” he asked.

Before Holly could respond, Bilbo spoke up.

“Excuse me.” Everyone turned to look at him. He stared at the contract in his hands in disbelief. “Sorry, but, uh, it says here…” His eyes scanned the contract. “Um, present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations…” He glanced up at the group, attempting to sound out, “E-vi-sce-ra-tion.” His expression turned incredulous as he read aloud, “ _ Incineration.” _

_ He must be new to this whole ‘violence’ concept _ , Holly mused. She walked over and stood at his shoulder, scanning the contract. The dwarves had been quite thorough in their terms.

“There—There must be some sort of mistake.”

“Oh no, laddie. Smaug’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur said.

“Oh. Huh,” Bilbo huffed, swaying on the spot a little.

“Y’alright, laddie?” Balin asked.

“Y-Yeah, no, I feel a bit faint.”

“Just think furnace with wings,” Bofur said, swaying in his chair. Clearly he’d had too much ale.

“Air. I-I-I need air.” Bilbo leaned over and put his hands on his knees.

“Flashing light, searing pain, then—poof! you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.” 

“Hm.” Bilbo seemed to be digesting this information, eyes a bit unfocused. “Nope.”

And he collapsed, out cold.

Holly managed to sidestep him just in time. “Well, I’m still conscious,” she said to Thorin. “And I do know how to start a fire, treat a wound, find a fresh water, et cetera.”

“By traveling with us, you will be putting yourself at risk,” Thorin said.

“Yes.”

“And if you prove to be a hindrance, we  _ will _ leave you behind.”

“Fair enough.” Holly didn’t expect any of the dwarves to coddle her, nor did she want them to.

Thorin nodded and turned back to the other dwarves, and Holly realized the initiation (of sorts) was over. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She had absolutely nothing to prove to a group of rowdy, ignorant, overly-optimistic dwarves. Their time together would be nothing more than the passing of a season.

Nonetheless, it felt as though a metaphorical door had closed behind her. Whatever lay at the end of this path would change her life.

At the very least, though, she wouldn’t be the one facing down a dragon.

\---

After the meeting (and impromptu fainting) the dwarves dispersed throughout Bag End.

Holly searched the house for Gandalf, who had gone to help their unconscious host. She had one more question she wanted to ask before she left.

She heard the wizard’s voice in one of the sitting rooms. As she approached the entrance, she could also hear Bilbo’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Gandalf. I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong hobbit.” He brushed past Holly and padded down the hallway. She spared a brief glance at his retreating figure before walking into the room.

“Ah, Holly. How can I help you?” Gandalf said, stooped over a little due to the low ceiling.

“Why did you have me come to this meeting? I won’t say it wasn’t interesting, but you could have just told me to meet up with you the next day.”

“Context, my dear. It does help to know about the people you will be traveling with.”

“Right.” Holly didn’t care much for their little quest. The dwarves seemed mostly sane, and despite their flaws they weren’t  _ bad _ people as far as she could tell. As long as they were safe to travel with, she wouldn’t care if they were on a quest to defeat Whiskers the Magical Rabbit. “I presume I won’t miss anything if I leave now.”

“Actually, I would appreciate it if you would talk to Bilbo. Try to convince him to sign the contract. I know from your conversation with the innkeeper that you can be quite persuasive.”

Holly didn’t much care about whether Bilbo signed the contract either. But Gandalf had offered to help her, and it wouldn’t hurt to do a small favor in return. She never could resist a challenge, anyway. “All right. I’ll do what I can.”

\---

Bilbo sat down onto his bed and sighed. An adventure! And dwarves, in his own home! He’d been expecting a quiet, untroubled night, like every other night he’d had since…forever, it seemed. 

Every night, he had the same routine. 

That was true for the rest of his day, too. Except for Sundays, when he went to the market. And he always made sure to sweep the chimneys on Trewsdays—

“Mind if I come in?”

He looked up as a slight figure appeared in his doorway. It was the woman from before…Holly, was it? Her features were sharp and angular, in an almost unattractive fashion, and framed by dark, curly hair. Her eyes seemed to be taking everything in at once, flicking from the candle on his nightstand to the basket of laundry in the corner, then back to his face.

“Can I help you?” Bilbo asked with a sigh.

Holly sat down in the chair across from his bed, fixing him with an analytical stare. “Gandalf wants me to persuade you to sign the contract.”

Bilbo frowned. “Well, don’t trouble yourself. I’ve already made up my mind, so you don’t have to—”

“That’s all right. I enjoy a challenge.” Holly sat back and smiled. “So, I suppose you feel quite comfortable in your home, here in the Shire.”

Bilbo nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

Holly examined the room once more. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“And how old is it? My coin is on forty, fifty years.”

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re really wasting your time here. I’ve already told Gandalf that I can’t just run off into the blue. Especially not with a dragon waiting at the end of this journey.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. The dwarves are focused on reclaiming their kingdom, yes. But you? You would be able to travel Middle Earth, and experience things you’ve never even dreamed of. When was the last time you camped out under the stars? Listened to the sounds of insects in the night? Took even a small risk?” 

Distant memories of his childhood began to trickle back into clarity. He could still recall the woods he had explored in his younger days, back when he had been obsessed with finding elves. The light of the fireflies, the smell of fresh grass beneath his feet, the thrill of running as fast as he could—that had been decades ago, but the memories brought a strange ache to his heart. 

Somewhere in his house, the dwarves were singing another song, this one low, haunting, and strangely moving. 

“Have you ever seen the Misty Mountains? It’s a long row of snowy peaks, and just seeing it makes you feel so  _ alive. _ And I bet you’ve never been to Rivendell. It’s the elven realm near the Misty Mountains. Probably the most magical place I’ve ever been to. There are glowing waterfalls, trees with leaves of orange, emerald, and gold, and the architecture—all arches and broad, pristine buildings…”

He felt a strange exhilaration as something Tookish awoke inside of him.  _ I must be mad _ . Bilbo stared out of his bedroom window. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the prospect of going on an actual adventure, and being able to see the rest of the world.

“There’s nothing stopping you from seeing all of that yourself. And who knows when you’ll get an opportunity like this again? You could take this chance, or you could stay and live out the rest of your days…” She made a vague gesture at his room, which suddenly seemed very small. “Here.” 

_ An adventure. _ Bilbo had always wondered what it would be like, to wear a sword instead of a walking stick and climb mountains instead of writing poetry.

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Holly said, rising from the chair and leaving the bedroom. 

Through his window, Bilbo watched one of his neighbors light a lantern and hang it on a post near the road. The flame glowed like the furnace of a dragon’s maw, ready to swallow him in white-hot death. And just like that, he was Bilbo Baggins again, the respectable bachelor who had no interest in adventures, or quests, or anything of the sort.

_ Adventure, indeed.  _ Bilbo shook his head to rid it of such fanciful thoughts. He was a plain fellow with no need for leaving his home for months on end. With that, he stood and shut his bedroom door.

Through his window, the stars winked like gemstones, encompassing the quiet land below in a gentle, inviting glow.


	2. On the Great East Road

**Chapter 2: On the Great East Road**

 

_ Faint golden light illuminated the cavernous room. A thick haze hung in the stale air. Dust had settled on every surface—the staircases, the arches, the walls. Everything was drab with disuse and neglect.  _

_ A faint, puffing breath echoed through the stagnant air— _

Holly opened her eyes, shaking her hair out of her face. The trees around her were rocking back and forth slightly—ah. Right. She was riding to meet Thorin’s Company. She sat up straighter, rubbing one eye, then the other, feeling a bit unnerved. She never fell asleep unintentionally. 

Her pony tossed its head, and she tightened her grip on the reins. It wasn’t technically hers, but its actual owners were in Dunland and had probably already stolen a replacement.

Up ahead, she could see the dwarves riding in single file, chatting with one another. 

“Um. Hello,” she said as she approached, not quite sure how to introduce herself.

The dwarves turned around. 

“Glad to see you could make it, lass.” Balin gave a short wave. 

“Where is the hobbit?” Thorin asked.

“No idea. He probably overslept,” Holly said.

“Fine.” He turned back around. “Keep moving.”

Holly glanced back down the road. She had obviously made an impression on Bilbo the previous night, but he could have changed his mind between then and now. The quiet ones were always hard to read.

Her doubts were dispelled about fifteen minutes later when they heard a shout:

“Wait!”

Everyone turned around again.

“ _ Wait! _ ”

And who should come sprinting (struggling, really) down the worn path but Bilbo Baggins. He waved at them, clutching the contract as it flapped in the wind. 

“I signed it,” he panted when he had finally caught up. He thrust the contract at Balin, who examined the signature at the bottom. 

“Well, everything seems to be in order. Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Damn, I should have bet on this,” Holly muttered.

A few of the dwarves had the same idea—most of them were tossing small bags of coins to one another. 

“Come on, Nori. Pay up!” Óin said. 

Nori tossed a bag of coins to Óin and moved his horse up next to Holly’s.

“Did you think he was going to come?”

“Hm?”

“Did you think the hobbit was going to show up?”

“Oh, I knew he was going to show up.” Or, at least, she had been eighty percent sure.

“Why? You bribed him?” Nori asked with a cheeky wink that suggested he was  _ not  _ talking about money.

Holly blinked. “What?”

“I said, did you—”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ repeat that.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, lass, I was only joking.”

Holly scowled.  _ Bawdy jokes? Really? _

“I’d assume that anything Nori says is a joke,” Bofur said, moving his pony between the two of them. Nori grinned at her, not bothered at all by Bofur’s claim.

“Well, I hope you’re joking about calling me ‘lass’. I do, in fact, have a name,” she replied.

“And what might that be, again?” Bofur pretended to think.

“Hilda, right?” Nori said. 

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “My name is Holly.”

“Right it is,” Bofur said. He seemed to take nearly everything in good humor.

_ I could change that in a heartbeat. _

Holly shook off the spiteful thought. There would be no need for that. The dwarves were far less gruff and threatening than she’d expected—with the exception of a few. There was no need to create unnecessary hostility. The month it would take for them to reach Rivendell would pass quickly. She was sure of it. 

\---

A fine, misty rain began to fall when they stopped for the night in Bree, a small, muddy town on the borders of the Shire. A worn wooden sign signalling the presence of  _ The Prancing Pony _ swung in the wind as Balin pushed open the tavern door. Sounds of laughter and the heavy scent of ale flooded the street.

“Wait a moment,” Thorin said as Holly made to follow the rest of the dwarves into the building. “I know you’ll only be traveling with us for a short while, but I need to set a few ground rules. Master Baggins.” He nodded to Bilbo, stopping him as well.

They stood under the dripping, creaking sign while Thorin appraised them for a moment.

“You will be expected,” he said, “to carry the same weight as everyone else, and you will do so without complaint. If we run into danger, your first priority is to get to safety. Do not try to help us fight. If I give you an order, you will follow it. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Holly replied. She considered adding ‘sir’ to annoy him, but thought better of it. He could still leave her behind if he wanted to.

“Yes, I can do that,” Bilbo replied as well.

Thorin gave a nod, seeming to accept their compliance to at least some degree.

Holly scrutinized his stiff shoulders as he walked into the tavern. His demeanor contrasted sharply against Bofur and Nori’s joking attitudes. Thorin seemed more like a soldier leading a military campaign than a dwarf who enjoyed good ale and an adventure. 

Her train of thought came to a pause once she realized Bilbo had been talking to her. “Hm?”

“Oh, I was just saying, I thought about what you said the other night, about why I should come on this journey. And I think you may be right—that this will all be worth it in the end.” Bilbo shrugged, blushing a little as though realizing the implications of what he had just said. “I just thought you might want to know that.”

Holly wondered if the dwarves had also made bets on how long he would survive in the wild. “You think this will all be worth it in the end because I haven’t told you the other half of it.”

Bilbo hesitated. “What’s...the other half of it?”

“That it’s not safe out here. At any moment you could die from one wrong step over the side of a cliff, or the blade of a bandit’s knife, without so much as a by-your-leave. Watching the sunrise from the top of a mountain won’t mean much if you’re bleeding out while it happens.” Holly watched the color drain from his face. “Now you have the full picture.” She turned and walked through the door.

Inside the tavern, the dwarves sat at a long wooden table in the back. They were earning quite a few looks from the other patrons, though that might have been due to the various weapons strapped to their backs. A young girl, about halfway through her teens, was serving plates of meat and bread.

Holly stood to the side, uncertain if she should sit down. All the dwarves laughed and talked with each other, like they had the night at Bag End. Perhaps she would wait outside. 

Ori noticed her standing there and moved over on the wooden bench, patting the spot next to him. “You can sit here, Holly.”

“Hm? Oh. All right.” She took a seat.

Holly tapped her fingers against the wood, staring around the room. A sallow-faced man slouched against the opposite wall, smoking a pipe. A couple of hobbits sat at the bar, laughing with each other. Two cloaked rangers strolled into the tavern in deep discussion. 

“Are you going to have something?” She looked up. The young waitress stared back, an impatient twist to her mouth.

“Not hungry,” Holly replied.

“Nonsense,” Dori said from her other side. “You need to keep up your strength.” He turned to the waitress. “She’ll have one, too.”

“I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself,” Holly said.

“Well, if you’re not going to do it, someone has to.”

As Dori turned to say something to Glóin, she frowned and lowered her gaze to her gaze to her clasped hands. She wasn’t sure if she even had enough coin to pay for a full tavern meal.

From her other side, Ori said softly, “Don’t worry. Dori’s always like that. He feels like he has to take care of everyone else.”

“Well, you might require that kind of attention, but I don’t,” she said.

Balin spoke up from across the table. “So, Gandalf said you have business in Rivendell?”

“Yes, I do,” Holly replied. She knew elves and dwarves had a bit of a grudge between them, and her association with Rivendell was probably cause for some suspicion from the dwarves. 

“And what sort of business might that be?” Balin asked. Dori was following the conversation, but Ori had turned to talk with Bombur.

Holly racked her brain for a believable lie. What would she do in a town full of boring, stuffy elves? “Well, I met an elf a while back. His job was to document history and write cultural texts. He asked me to come to Rivendell and tell him about my experiences as a traveler.”

“So you’ve traveled quite a bit, then?”

“Oh, yes, to all sorts of places.” Holly leaned forward a bit. “Though I’ve never been to the Blue Mountains. What’s it like there?” People always preferred to talk about their own experiences rather than listen to those of other people.

Balin did not disappoint. He began to describe life in the Blue Mountains, a region in the west inhabited by dwarves. 

Holly nodded along and asked questions every so often. Anything to keep the attention off herself. It was rather interesting to hear about the dwarvish settlement, even if Balin did keep his answers a bit vague. She understood that dwarves were rather secretive about their lives inside the mountain, and she didn’t care to pry beyond what he was willing to tell her.

Under the table, she twisted the fabric of her coat sleeve. She couldn’t really be critical, having her own secrets that she was keeping from them.

Though whatever the dwarves were hiding in the Blue Mountains, she was certain it was much simpler than being cursed with dark magic.

\---

A sharp scream ripped through the air. 

Thorin jolted awake at the sound, his eyes flying open. They had only departed from Bree a few days ago, and already they had entered dangerous territory. He stood up and surveyed the land below the cliff where they’d made camp, but couldn't make anything out in the gloomy trees. 

The halfling scurried back into the campsite. “What was that?” he asked. 

“Orcs,” Kíli replied.

Another scream. Bilbo’s face paled in the firelight. “ _ Orcs _ ?”

“Throat-cutters,” Fíli said, his face grim. “There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them.”

“They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone’s asleep, quick and quiet. No screams—just lots of blood,” Kíli said.

Bilbo turned away, horrified. Fíli and Kíli exchanged a glance and smirked.

“You think that’s funny?” Thorin turned to them with a glare. “You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?”

Kíli bowed his head. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” Thorin turned and moved a short distance away from their camp, trying to calm himself. He had hesitated in allowing his nephews to come with him on this quest, but sooner or later they would have to learn the harsh realities of the world they lived in. He only hoped they could do so before making a mistake they regretted.

“Cheerful fellow, isn’t he?” he heard Holly say.

“Don’t mind him. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs,” Balin said. “After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But the enemy had gotten there first.”

Thorin lowered his head as Balin told them about the Battle of Azanulbizar. The thought of it brought back a flood of bloodstained memories. The loss of his brother, his grandfather, and his father weighed on his heart. The blood, the screams, the mountains of corpses of his kin—the image was as vivid as the day it had happened. Azog’s twisted, sadistic smile flashed in his vision, making him glower. 

“And the pale orc? What happened to him?” Bilbo asked. 

“That filth died of his wounds long ago,” Thorin said, walking back into the camp. He forced himself to relax. He would never have to face that nightmarish beast again.

Another harsh cry sounded from the forest below their campsite and Thorin tensed again. He knew sleep would not come easy that night, after dragging up old memories that refused to stay completely buried. He settled down anyway, facing the stars and waiting for the light of dawn to burn away the shadows surrounding their dying campfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave me a comment letting me know what you thought!


	3. The Noble Bachelor

**Chapter 3: The Noble Bachelor**

 

Bilbo ended up catching a cold from the rain they’d had earlier that week due to his lack of a cloak. Other than that and the time Fíli and Kíli had led an enraged bear into the camp (“It was an accident!”), they had not run into any problems thus far. 

Holly had hoped it would stay that way. A few weeks in, however, the peaceful duration of their journey came to an abrupt halt. 

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Thorin said. They’d stopped to rest at an abandoned farm. “Fíli, Kíli, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.” He sent a meaningful glance towards his nephews, conveying a message somewhere along the lines of  _ Do not lead any more bears into the camp or I will disown you _ .

Gandalf strode up to the top of the hill, where a half-destroyed farmhouse stood. “A farmer and his family used to live here.”

“Used to.” Holly scrutinized the house, following him into the wreckage. “They left in a hurry.”

The wizard nodded with a thoughtful frown. “Perhaps we should move on.” He turned to Thorin. “We could make for the Hidden Valley.”

Thorin’s gaze darkened. “I have told you already, I will not go near that place.”

“And I am telling you to reconsider. We could get rest, food, advice.”

“I do not need their advice.”

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond may be able to help us.”

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor—what help came from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, and the elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my father and my grandfather?”

“You are neither of them!” Gandalf waved his staff, frustrated. “And you forget, one of our group has business in Rivendell.”

“That won't be a problem.” Holly crossed her arms. She was not a bargaining chip to be used to win an argument. “It's not too far from here. I can make it there by myself.”

“You see?” Thorin said as Gandalf scowled. “There is no reason for us to go near that place.”

“I did not give you that map and key to hold on to the past.”

“I did not know they were yours to keep.”

Gandalf glared for a moment, then stalked off down the hill.

“Where are you going?” Bilbo asked, staring after the wizard with wide eyes.

“To seek the company of the only one with the slightest bit of sense among us.”

“And who’s that?”

“Myself, Mr. Baggins!”

_ Rude _ .

Holly turned back to Thorin. “Gandalf is right, though. Even if you’re keen on avoiding Rivendell, we shouldn’t camp here.” 

His guarded gaze met hers. “Why do you say that?”

“Look around. This house was built one, maybe two years ago, yet half of it is already demolished. Not to mention the majority of the furniture is outside the house.” She pointed down the hill, to where a broken chair lay. “No storm could have caused this.”

Thorin shook his head. “It’s too late in the day to look for another spot to set up camp. We will stay here.”

“And wait to get killed and eaten by whatever destroyed this house?” 

“Almost everyone in this company is perfectly capable of defending themselves. If you are discouraged by the thought of danger, then you should not have come.” He marched back to the rest of the Company. “Come on, Bombur, we’re hungry.”

Holly shook her head and glanced back at the demolished house. Thorin certainly had  _ some  _ amount of survival skills, but ignoring the blatant evidence she had given him was an excellent way to get them all killed.

\---

Night dropped its dark blanket over the sky, and no creatures (bears or otherwise) attacked the camp. Holly wasn’t ready to let up her guard, though. It would only take a moment for one of them to get eaten or dismembered, or both. 

Bombur made some stew after they’d all decided that Gandalf would not be coming back anytime soon, and that it would useless to wait for him.

“Do us a favor and take these to the lads.” Bofur handed two bowls to Bilbo. “And these are for you and Bilbo.” He handed another two bowls to Holly. The pair of them set off towards the woods, where Fíli and Kíli were watching the ponies.

Bilbo sniffled and gave a small cough, making sure to turn his head away from the stew.

“How’s your cold?” Holly asked, surprising herself. 

“I’m managing. Would be a bit more bearable if I had a handkerchief.” 

Holly gave a brief smile at that. Bilbo had made a bit of a fuss earlier that week because he’d forgotten his handkerchief, only for most of the dwarves to ridicule him. He handled the humiliation well, though. Or better than Holly would have, at any rate.

They found Fíli and Kíli standing in the woods, staring into space. Bilbo tried to offer them their stew, but to no avail. He cast a glance over at Holly, confused.

“Perhaps their brains have stopped working. It happens sometimes.” The brothers were nice enough, but she didn’t think much of them beyond that.

Bilbo turned back to the dwarves. “Is something wrong?”

Kíli finally spoke. “We’re supposed to be looking after the ponies.”

“Only, we have a slight problem,” Fíli said.

“We had sixteen ponies.”

“Now there’s fourteen.”

“You sure you can count correctly?” Holly asked.

Bilbo shot her a look.

“Daisy and Bungo are missing,” Kíli said.

“Well, that’s not good.” Bilbo gestured to an uprooted tree a few feet away. “And  _ that’s _ not good at all. Should we tell Thorin?” 

“No, let’s not worry him,” Fíli said. 

“As our official burglar, we thought you might want to take a look into it,” Kíli said.

Bilbo observed the tangle of dirty roots. “Well, uh, it looks like something uprooted these trees. Probably something big.”

Holly rolled her eyes and handed the stew to Fíli, stepping closer to the tree. She took in the splintered trunk and the large clods of dirt hanging onto the roots. It couldn’t have fallen without a great deal of pressure; the tree was young and its roots were strong.

She turned back to Fíli. “You said two of them had gone missing. Did you see any signs of a struggle, any blood?”

“Uh, no.” He frowned, surprised at her taking initiative.

“Do you have experience with tracking animals?” Kíli asked, looking equal parts confused and amused.

Holly ignored him, circling the tree and inspecting the middle of the trunk. The wood was cracked, but not deep enough to be the result of a blunt impact. No, whatever had pushed it down had done so deliberately.

She lowered her gaze to the ground, where a few hoof shapes were imprinted in the mud. The horses must have been forced to halt, to avoid the trunk slamming to the ground. So the creature they were dealing with was large, strong, with decent gross motor skills and reasonable strategic intelligence.

“Of  _ course. _ ” She stepped away from the tree trunk. “How did I not realize—?” She shoved a branch out of the way and strode deeper into the forest. 

“Holly? What is it?” Bilbo called after her.

“Trolls!”

\---

Flies buzzed in and out of the mouth of the empty cave, their droning reverberating throughout the otherwise silent forest. The trolls had likely scared all the wild animals off—Holly was certain they were the culprits of the destroyed farmhouse as well as the uprooted tree. They’d probably made a meal out of whoever had lived in the farmhouse.

She had been confident about her theory before, and the existence of the cave had been the final proof. Trolls couldn’t survive in broad daylight, and would need somewhere to shelter from the sunlight. It had only taken her an hour or two to find it, and she hadn’t seen Fíli, Kíli, and Bilbo since. None of them had elected to follow her, apparently.

The cave wasn’t worth investigating further at the moment. The trolls had to be in another part of the forest, probably eating the ponies they had taken. All she had to do now was find Thorin and inform him that there was indeed something out there that could potentially kill them. 

Halfway back to the camp, she detected a faint commotion coming from another part of the forest. Someone—no,  _ multiple _ someones were shouting in defiance. Perhaps she was too late to warn the Company and they’d found the trolls themselves. Half-exasperated, she followed the sound, guided through the brush by the barest orange flicker of a fire and the dim glow of moonlight.

Holly heard the trolls before she saw them. Their nasally voices came out jumbled as they tried to speak around their thick tongues.

The situation turned out to be worse than she had expected. The dwarves were tied up in sacks and piled in a corner next to a crude corral holding four of their ponies. In the center of the clearing, three trolls argued over a cauldron that could easily fit five of the dwarves inside. Bilbo was watching all of this unfold from behind a tree.

“Don’t bother cooking them. Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly!”

“I think they should be sauteéd and grilled with a sprinkle of sage.”

“Oh for Eru’s sake,” Holly muttered, moving next to Bilbo and making him jump. “How did this happen?”

“Fíli and Kíli sent me to go rescue the ponies. And then the rest of the Company got involved and it, uh...went downhill from there.” That was an understatement. “I’d only just managed to slip away, and now…”

They had gotten themselves into quite the predicament. But the beginnings of a plan had already begun to form in her mind. “Well, are you going to help them?”

Bilbo gaped at her. “How do you expect  _ me  _ to rescue thirteen dwarves from a group of trolls?”

She glanced up at the paling sky. Dawn was fast approaching. If Bilbo could stall the trolls long enough, they would have no choice but to flee back to their cave or the sunlight would kill them. It was their only shot at rescuing the dwarves. “I don’t know. Talk to them. If we keep them occupied for a few hours the sun will rise and the daylight will turn them to stone. Don’t try a physical confrontation—obviously they’re faster than they look. We just need a distraction. I’m sure you can do that without fainting.”

“That’s insane,” Bilbo said. “If your brilliant plan is getting me killed, then—”

“Oh, you’re right, let’s wait around for the dwarves to get eaten while you come up with a better idea. I'm sure that won't take  _ ages _ .”

They were so engrossed in their argument that neither of them noticed that the clearing had fallen silent.

“If you think it’s such a good idea, then why don’t you go do it yourself?”

Holly glared. If he was calling her a  _ coward _ ... But before she could respond, one of the trolls reached around the tree and grabbed one of them in each hand, pulling them into the clearing. Holly let out an embarrassing yelp.

“Brought us some more meat, eh?” The troll sneered at Bilbo. “Though this one looks a bit too bony.” He gave Holly a quick squeeze that had her gasping for air.

She froze in the troll’s grip, fear clouding over reason. This had not been part of the plan.

“Actually—I, um. I came to tell you that, um, you are making a terrible mistake,” Bilbo said, voice trembling.

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half wits!” Dori said from the pile of dwarves. Holly wasn’t sure why the trolls had left their heads sticking out of the sacks. They were bound to be much noisier that way.

“Half wits? What does that make us?” Bofur said.

Bilbo sent the two dwarves an irritated glare before continuing. “I mean, you’re making a mistake with, uh, with the, uh, seasoning.”

The troll squinted. “What about the seasoning?”

“Well, have you smelt them? You’re going to need something stronger than sage if you’re going to eat this lot.”

Holly stared as several of the dwarves yelled in outrage. That had to have taken some quick thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t as incompetent as she thought.

“I-In fact, the true secret to cooking dwarves is to…skin them first!” Bilbo nodded, seeming a bit more confident in his diversion despite the Company's vehement protests.

He continued rambling on for a bit about seasoning. When one of the trolls tried to eat Bombur, Bilbo scrambled to convince the trolls that the dwarves were infected with parasites. Holly began to wonder how long he was able to carry on with this when a loud voice boomed:

“The dawn will take you all!”

Everyone turned to where Gandalf had positioned himself on a boulder. He raised his staff and cracked it down upon the boulder, splitting it in half and flooding the clearing with sunlight.

Holly gasped as the troll dropped her, the fall knocking the air out of her lungs. Bilbo landed next to her. The trolls shrieked in pain as the sunlight washed over their skin. They cowered and writhed, their skin flaking and crackling until the three monsters had stiffened into stone. Everyone squinted through the sunlight as silence fell over the clearing.

The dwarves broke out into cheers, victorious (if one could call it that).

Gandalf made his way down from the rock with surprising agility. “I came at the right time, I see.”

“A few more minutes and we would have been fine.” Holly replied, standing and brushing herself off. She surveyed the dwarves, still tied up in their sacks. “Perfectly capable of defending yourselves, I see.” She turned and offered a hand to Bilbo. “Still, things went better than I thought they would.”

Holly received a glare in return. “I suppose you could say that,” Bilbo said, standing without her help.

She dropped her hand back to her side. “Problem?”

“Have you no respect for other people’s safety?” He glared and cleared his throat. “I could have died back there. We  _ both _ could have died.”

“But we didn’t.” That was rather obvious. “I knew what I was doing.”

He sighed, exasperated with her for some reason. “So you weren’t the slightest bit afraid that we were going to be eaten by trolls?”

Come to think of it, he had looked a bit terrified when the troll had grabbed him. But he’d just been fulfilling his role as the Company’s burglar. Holly hadn’t planned on the trolls grabbing her as well, but if things had come down to it she probably could have handled the situation herself. Probably.

“Well, I’m sorry if my actions caused you to be frightened. If such a situation arises again, I’ll enlist the help of someone who won’t be afraid.”

That seemed like a fair offer to her, but all she received in reply was an icy, “All right, fine.”

Holly watched as Bilbo walked away to the help the dwarves out of their sacks. She supposed she’d never understand hobbits.

Or anyone else, for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	4. A Flight for Life

**Chapter 4: A Flight for Life**

 

Holly walked into the cave to see if the dwarves had finished their little treasure hunt. She’d shown them the cave she’d found and they’d pillaged it with zeal. Among slimy bones and numerous cobwebs, they’d managed to find a few items of value.

“What are you doing?” Dwalin glanced over at Nori, Glóin, and Bofur as they pawed dirt over a small chest filled with gold. 

“We’re making a long term deposit,” Glóin replied, cheerful for once at their find.

“Doing all right, Miss Holly?” Nori asked, looking up at her.

“I haven’t slept in twenty four hours thanks to you lot. I feel great,” she replied.

He stood up and clapped her on the shoulder as he passed her. She recoiled a little from the contact. “Why don’t you find something to defend yourself with? You won’t last very long out in the wild with just that razor-sharp wit of yours.”

Holly sent him a sharp glance, unsure whether he was mocking her or not. “All right.” Quite unusual, that they were allowing a female to wield a weapon. From what she knew, that was part of their culture, but she wasn’t.  
A sword would be too bulky for her small frame, and she didn’t know how to use one anyway. But she did find a knife, and pocketed that. A skilled opponent would be able to disarm her and use it against her, but it was better than nothing.

As she walked out of the cave, Holly had little time to appreciate the fresh air before Thorin said, “Something’s coming!” 

The dwarves drew their weapons and ran towards whatever was headed their way. Holly followed, considering the knife in her pocket, then deciding to let the dwarves handle it. Perhaps they wouldn’t get put into sacks this time.

Among the wide range of what they expected to burst forth—wargs, orcs, wolves, bears—a rabbit-drawn sleigh was not among them. A disheveled man appearing to have spawned from the forest itself clutched onto the sleigh, screaming about thieves and fire and murder and the like. They all stared as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Radagast,” Gandalf said, striding forward. “Radagast the Brown! What are you doing here?”

_ This is Radagast?  _ Holly frowned. Certainly Gandalf wasn’t the most  _ resplendent  _ of wizards, but at least he had some appearance of competence. This one appeared to have been out of contact with civilization for at least an age, considering his ragged clothes and the mysterious substance drying on one side of his face. 

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s terribly wrong,” Radagast replied in a high, nervous voice. He opened and closed his mouth several times, deep in thought. 

“Yes?” Gandalf prompted.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Just give me a minute. I had a thought, and now I’ve lost it.” He made a frustrated noise. “It was right on the tip of my tongue.”

The dwarves exchanged glances, eyebrows raised.

“Oh!” Radagast exclaimed. “It’s not a thought at all. It’s a little…” Gandalf reached up and pulled something off Radagast’s tongue. “Stick insect!”

Holly shoved her hands in her pockets. Certainly she could be doing something other than listening to this madman. She slipped away from their little congregation and made her way back to the campsite to check if the ponies were still there.

“Where are you going, Miss Holly?” 

She bit back a sigh and turned around. Ori trotted towards her, wielding his notebook as usual. 

“I’m off to check on the ponies.”  _ Alone. _

“I’ll come with you, then.” He brandished his slingshot. “It’s not safe for a lady to be on her own in the wild.”

Deciding not to mention that she’d spent a good part of the night ‘on her own in the wild,’ Holly shrugged and continued walking. “Fine.”

They trudged on in silence for a while. 

“So...” Ori finally bridged the soundless gap between them. “Are you from this side of the Misty Mountains?”

“No.”

“Then where are you from?”

“Laketown, originally.”

“That’s far away. Have you lived there your whole life?”

_ Why on earth does he want to know all of this about me?  _ “No.”

Ori seemed to have picked up on her clipped tone. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all. But some silence would be  _ marvelous _ right now.”

Their conversation died after that, the only noise being the rustling of the undergrowth.

“Oh,” Holly said. “The ponies are gone.”

“What? How do you know?” 

“Well, we would have heard them by now.”

They pushed their way through the brush and sure enough, their forest near their camp was devoid of any horses. Without anyone to watch them, they had bolted.

“We have to tell Thorin.” Ori took off back towards the troll’s cave. 

They ran back the way they had come and were met with the aftermath of what had probably been chaos. Two dead wargs lay in the middle of the clearing, bleeding from arrow and axe wounds.

“We’ve only been gone for a few minutes,” Holly muttered.

“You are being hunted,” Gandalf announced, as if the fact weren’t obvious already.

Everyone exchanged uneasy looks. Where there were wargs, orcs were almost always nearby. Orc attacks didn’t happen often in the wild, but when they did it was almost impossible to escape unharmed.

“We have to get out of here,” Dwalin said.

“We can’t. The ponies are gone. They’ve bolted!” Ori moved closer to the group.

Several of the Company sighed in exasperation. It was impossible to outrun a warg, and their packs and equipment would only slow them down. 

“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast said. Several eyebrows raised.

“These are Gundabad wargs,” Gandalf said. “They will outrun you.”

But Radagast had already mounted his sleigh. “These are Rhosgobel rabbits. I’d like to see them try.”

The dwarves exchanged glances, not happy with putting their life in the brown wizard’s hands. But they had no other option, and at Gandalf’s command, they sprinted out of the forest and into a rocky field brushed with tawny shrubs. 

The howling of wargs grew closer as they darted across the plain, hiding behind boulders to keep out of sight. 

Before long, Holly’s lungs burned and her legs gave an annoying reminder that she hadn’t run this much in quite a long time.

“Come on, move! Keep up!” Thorin urged them, already at the top of the incline they were ascending.

“Keep breathing, that’s the key,” Bombur panted at the back of the group.

They halted as the orcs passed by several yards ahead, allowing everyone a brief respite. 

Another group of wargs passed so close that Holly could feel their pounding footsteps under her own feet. As soon as they had left, they set off again, taking advantage of the opportunity as the Wargs galloped out of sight. So far they had been successful in their evasion. But one thing was clear—the meandering path Radagast made would likely collide with them before they could make it to safety. Holly scowled as the brown wizard veered to the right, leading the wargs closer to them instead of farther away. If he was so confident in his oversized rabbits, he could at least steer them in a straight line.

“Where are you leading us?” Thorin asked as they hid once more. Gandalf said nothing, motioning for him to follow the others.

But there was only one place where they could seek refuge from the orcs. Thorin had likely suspected it too. Holly was glad that she hadn't tried to make it to Rivendell on her own. The last thing she wanted to do was face down an orc pack by herself.

And they began running again. 

The wargs passed them once more on a ridge farther down the field. Thorin swore in Khuzdul and motioned for everyone to hide behind a large boulder. Amidst a chorus of heavy breathing, they could hear the snarl of a warg from the top of the boulder. The dwarves tightened their grips on their weapons. Their luck had to run out eventually.

Thorin signalled for Kíli to dispatch the warg. Kíli nocked an arrow, leapt forward, and let it fly.

The beast let out a roar of pain, and he cringed. He’d shot it in the shoulder instead of the throat. He fired another at its rider, but his aim was off again and sunk into the orc’s ribcage. The warg stumbled down the rock face, its roars echoing throughout the plain. Dwalin, Bifur, and Thorin dispatched both enemies, but the damage had already been done. They could already hear the other wargs closing in on them. 

“Move! Run!” Gandalf said, compelling them to flee yet again.

_ I am going to die here, _ Holly realized. They would not be able to reach Rivendell before the wargs overtook them. The dwarves might be able to hold them off for a bit, but that would only delay their demise.

“There they are!” Glóin pointed. The orcs had already managed to circle around in front of them.

_ And this doesn’t look like a quick death either _ .

“This way! Quickly!” Gandalf motioned for them to move to the right.

“We’re surrounded!” 

“Hold your ground!” Thorin drew his sword.

_ Well, this is it.  _ Holly gripped her dagger, though she would probably die before she could use it. A loud growl sent shivers down her spine, and she realized too late where it had originated. To her right, a warg had snuck up on her. Its orc rider dismounted and drew a nasty-looking machete.

Its cruel sneer froze her in place. She couldn’t even call for help. 

_ And there goes my head,  _ she thought just as Thorin stepped around her and stabbed the orc in the gut. 

He glanced at her. “See? Perfectly capable of defending ourselves.”

She was still trying to muster a reply when Dori grabbed her arm and half dragged her over to a rock face where Gandalf stood.

“This way, you fools!” The gray wizard waved his staff and disappeared into a crevice in the rocks.

The crevice dipped down into a cave. Holly fell down the steep incline and knocked her elbow against the gravelly bottom. She scrambled out of the way to make room for the others as they came down the slope. She let Nori help her to her feet, dazed and a bit embarrassed that she’d frozen up at such a crucial moment.

Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin arrived last, and they all stopped and listened to the sound of horns. The hiss of arrows and the thunder of hoofbeats followed, accompanied by sounds of rage and pain from the wargs. An orc tumbled down the crevice, forcing the dwarves in the front of the group to scramble back. It stared at them with dull eyes, an arrow embedded in its neck. 

And everything fell silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love sassy!Thorin. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	5. The Statement of the Problem

**Chapter 5: The Statement of the Problem**

 

Holly took a moment to catch her breath as Thorin stepped forward and pried the arrow from the orc’s neck. He threw it down with a scowl. “Elves.” 

“I cannot see where the path leads,” Dwalin called from the back of the cave—or rather, tunnel. “Do we follow it or not?”

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur said. None of the dwarves seemed eager to see if the orcs or elves were still present up in the field.

They maneuvered their way through the narrow, rocky passage. Sunlight fell in shafts from where the tunnel ceiling opened up. Soon, they could hear the sound of water running, and the passage opened into a large valley.

They stared at the full trees, flowing waterfalls, and pristine architecture spread out below.

“The Valley of Imladris,” Gandalf said. “Known by another name in the common tongue.”

“Rivendell,” Bilbo said, sounding almost breathless.

“I’d no idea these beardless gits lived somewhere other than the trees,” Glóin said.

“You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?” Thorin glared at Gandalf. “They will try to stop us.”

“Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact, respect, and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me.” 

They trudged down the cliffside and over a stone walkway that led to a small courtyard. Bilbo stared at his surroundings with undisguised wonder. Most of the dwarves kept their eyes fixed ahead of them. It seemed they were unwilling to show any sort of appreciation for what they most likely considered enemy territory.

“Mithrandir.” Everyone turned to the source of the voice. A dark-haired elf descended one of the stairs leading into the courtyard, extending a hand in greeting.

“Ah, Lindir!” Gandalf said, raising one hand in return. 

The newcomer’s gaze focused on the muttering group of dwarves. Elegant eyebrows drew together in confusion and ill-disguised mistrust.

“I must speak with Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said in lieu of an explanation.

Lindir shook his head. “My Lord Elrond is not here.” 

“Not here?” Gandalf asked. “Where is he?”

The same horns they had heard back in the cave sounded, accompanied by the crescendo of approaching hoofbeats. Behind them, a group of mounted elves were advancing on their courtyard from a stone path that wound its way through the valley.

“ _ Ifridî bekâr _ !” Thorin said, and the dwarves condensed into a tighter group, weapons held aloft. “Close ranks!” 

The elves circled their group, causing some of the dwarves to snarl and brandish their weapons. The riders finally halted and one of their number dismounted, greeting Gandalf as he did so. 

“Lord Elrond!” Gandalf replied. “ _ Mellonnin! Mo evíedh _ ?” 

“ _ Farannem ‘lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui _ .”

“What are they saying?” Dori said.

“They were the ones hunting the orcs,” Holly said. A few of the dwarves shot her suspicious glances. Apparently even speaking the elvish language was cause for distrust. 

“It is strange for orcs to come so close to our borders,” Elrond switched to Westron with typical elven grace. “Something, or someone, has drawn them near.”

“Ah, that may have been us,” Gandalf said with the appropriate amount of sheepishness. 

The two turned their focus to the glowering group in the middle of the courtyard. Thorin stepped forward, flanked by Dwalin and Nori. 

“Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain,” Elrond said, his expression neutral.

“I do not believe we have met,” Thorin replied in lieu of a greeting.

“You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew him when he ruled under the mountain.”

“He made no mention of you.” Thorin seemed to be intent on burning every bridge of goodwill that Elrond extended to him. Holly could almost smell the smoke.

Elrond stared at Thorin for a moment. “ _ Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin _ .”

“What is he saying?” Glóin stepped forward. “Does he offer us insult?” Holly was torn between rolling her eyes and laughing. The others cried in outrage, moving forward as well.

“No, Master Glóin, he is offering you food,” Gandalf said before a full-on brawl could commence.

The dwarves retreated back into a huddle, and after a quick discussion, (“Let’s show these tree-shaggers what a  _ real _ feast looks like!”) Glóin replied in a more civil tone, “Ah, well, in that case, lead on.”

As the elves led them to the dining area, Elrond cast Holly a knowing glance, but said nothing, for which she was grateful. 

\---

Dinner at Rivendell was considerably more refined than the party at Bag End. That came as a surprise to Holly. Given the grudge between dwarf and elf, she had expected purposeful antagonization from the former. 

Most likely everyone felt tired from their lack of sleep the previous night. Bilbo looked as if he would fall asleep right into his dinner, and Holly felt just as exhausted. The dwarves seemed to be holding up all right, being a hardy race. 

“Where’s the meat?” Dwalin studied a fistful of the various greens the elves had served them. Óin stared in confusion at a chunk of onion impaled on his butter knife. Holly wondered if the dwarves even knew what vegetables were.

Next to her, Kíli paid little heed to his food, his attention focused on one of the musicians on the other side of the pavilion. He only broke his stare when he noticed Dwalin glaring at him from across the table.

“I can’t say I fancy elf maids myself,” Kíli said to the group, as though he hadn’t just been winking at the harpist. “Too thin. They’re all high cheekbones and creamy skin. Not enough facial hair for me.” Bofur nodded in agreement. “Although…” Kíli gestured to an elf behind him. “That one there’s not bad.”

Dwalin leaned forward. “That’s not an elf maid.”

Kíli did a double take as everyone howled with laughter. Realization dawned and he stared at Dwalin with wide eyes. “An honest mistake!” he said as Bofur elbowed him with a grin. 

“What about you, Miss Holly?” Bofur leaned around Kíli so he could talk to her. “You see any attractive elves here?” 

She frowned. “That’s not really...my area.” Bofur and the others stared. “I mean, what would it matter if I  _ did _ find one of them attractive?” The way other people looked meant nothing to her, unless she was gathering information. One’s appearance was a tool—not a subject to be romanticized.

“All right, then,” Bofur finally said. “Fair enough.”

“Do me a favor and don’t ask me any more irrelevant questions.” Holly turned back to her dinner. Clearly, none of the dwarves understood what she had said. They probably thought she was odd.

She watched Nori slide a silver fork off the table and into his coat. He noticed her looking and winked. And apparently  _ she _ was the odd one.

“Change the tune, why don’t you?” he said to one of the harpists. “I feel like I’m at a funeral!”

“Did somebody die?” Óin asked. Somehow a napkin had found its way into his ear trumpet.

“All right, lads, there’s only one thing for it.” Bofur rose from his seat. He clambered up onto a pedestal in the middle of the pavilion. The elves stopped playing their instruments, startled, as he began to sing:

_ There’s an inn, there’s an inn,  _

_ there’s a merry old inn _

_ Beneath the old gray hill _

_ And there they brew a beer so brown _

_ The man on the moon himself came down _

_ One night to drink his fill... _

The other dwarves whooped and joined in, banging the table in time to the song. As predicted, food became airborne, eliciting several disturbed glares from the elves.

Holly sighed.  _ Definitely _ , she was the odd one of the group.

\---

As night fell over Rivendell, Bilbo found himself alone. And in the dark he felt a bit lonely. It had been marvelous, being able to truly relax after their harrowing escape from the orcs. And he’d gotten to meet  _ elves _ , which had been a childhood dream of his.

But as he approached the guest quarters to get some much-needed rest, he stopped. The dwarves were all sitting together in the courtyard outside. Kíli and Bombur were laughing about something. Bifur was roasting some cabbage over a fire made from pieces of wood that looked suspiciously like chair legs.

The scene felt oddly domestic (disregarding the charred furniture), and it made a familiar ache rise in Bilbo’s chest. For a moment he wished that he was sitting with them. But most of the Company had already made it clear that they saw him as little more than an outsider.

_ There’s no use in complaining _ , he scolded himself.  _ Make the best of what you’ve got now. _

All the same, he found himself wandering away from the courtyard, under tall arches and out into the moonlight.

“Of course I was going to tell you. I was waiting for this very chance. And really, I think you can trust that I know what I’m doing.”

That was Gandalf’s voice. Bilbo looked down and saw two tall figures walking in the dark on a path below the balcony where he stood.

“Do you?” Elrond, the other tall figure, responded. “That dragon has slept for sixty years. What will happen if your plan should fail? If you wake the beast—”

“But if we succeed? If the dwarves take back the mountain, our defenses in the east will be strengthened.”

Bilbo realized he was eavesdropping on more than just a casual conversation. Apparently the mountain was more than a lost homeland. The way Gandalf spoke, it was as though Erebor was a fortress of sorts. As though there was some great danger to be fortified against.

“It is a dangerous move, Gandalf,” Elrond said.

“It is also dangerous to do nothing. The throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birthright. What is it you fear?”

Bilbo turned around as a shuffling noise sounded behind him, and his heart skipped a beat. Thorin was standing a few feet away, his gaze focused on the conversation below.

Elrond stopped walking, as did Gandalf. “Have you forgotten the strain of madness that runs in that family?” The elf spoke in a low voice, so that Bilbo had to strain his ears to hear his next words. “His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Do you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?”

Well, this seemed to be a new level of embarrassing—being caught eavesdropping by the person whom the eavesdropped conversation was about. Bilbo wasn’t sure what Elrond meant by ‘sickness’. Thorin seemed healthy enough.

But as he turned once more to glance at him, Bilbo saw doubt in Thorin’s blue eyes. It was just the tiniest glimmer, and it vanished in an instant.

“Gandalf, these decisions do not rest with us alone,” Elrond said. “It is not up to you, or me, to redraw the map of Middle Earth.”

“With or without our help, these dwarves will march upon the mountain,” Gandalf replied. “They are determined to reclaim their homeland.” The two had begun walking again, and soon the sound of their voices faded.

Bilbo turned back to Thorin, who met his eyes. He was waiting for Bilbo to speak first.

He didn’t see why his opinion should matter to Thorin, who had made it clear that Bilbo’s presence on the quest was more of a hindrance than anything. But if he was going to speak, then he was going to do so honestly.

“I think you’re doing the right thing. And I think it is brave of you to take such a risk for your people,” Bilbo said.

Thorin nodded in response, and it was remarkable how much he could convey with a single look. He was acknowledging Bilbo’s words, but they hadn’t affected his own intentions or feelings. He was simply affirming Bilbo’s loyalty to the quest.

He did believe that Thorin was doing the right thing, but Bilbo was beginning to doubt if he was himself. Perhaps he really was a burden on the rest of them. He would feel terrible if the quest failed because of his mistakes. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if someone died because of him.

Bilbo watched Thorin turn and walk back toward the guest quarters. In a way, the Company was counting on him. He would have to find a way to make sure he could keep up with them, at the very least.

_ Easier said than done. _

He shook his head and went to get some rest. There was no use dwelling on things he couldn’t change. When they left Rivendell, he would do what he could to contribute to their quest.

He only hoped it would be enough.

\---

Lord Elrond of Rivendell was a skillful warrior, one of the wisest elves in Middle Earth, and the guardian of the Last Homely House East of the Sea.

So naturally, the first thing Holly said to him was, “All right, I apologize for running away, but I’m not too keen on dying just yet.”

“My intention was never to kill you, Holly. But I fear your condition could have dire consequences if we do not investigate it further.”

Holly crossed her arms. Perhaps that was why they were having this conversation as such an unreasonable hour of the night. The moon cast long beams across the floor of the pavilion, the only other illumination being the tiny orange light coming from Gandalf’s pipe.

“The last time I met with you, I told you there was dark magic attached to your soul. However, I was only able to sense its presence, and not its nature. Since then I have devised a method to examine it more closely.”

“So an old elf can learn new tricks,” Holly said.

Elrond gave her a dry smile and held out one hand, fingers pointed at her forehead. “If I may?”

“Will it hurt?” Holly asked, and wanted to scold herself at how childish she sounded.

“No. Just stand still and relax.”

Holly closed her eyes and let out a deep breath as Elrond’s fingertips made contact with her forehead. She was sure he was speaking an elvish incantation, but a rushing noise in her ears had drowned out all but the faintest murmur of his voice. 

She gasped as brightness exploded in the darkness behind her eyelids. A nebula of white light stretched out like the branches of a tree.

New shapes began to form—a nebula of pulsing red that intertwined with her own. Connecting the two were strands of black that seemed to absorb and dim all the light around it.

As soon as she had managed to absorb the image, it was over. Holly shook her head to clear it as the darkness of the pavilion reasserted itself over her vision.

Elrond took a step back. “This is...stranger than I had previously thought.”

“What did you see?” Gandalf asked. 

The elf locked eyes with Holly and said, “The dark magic is not merely connected to your soul. It is linking yours with another.”

“Another soul? Well, that explains quite a bit,” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. The rushing in her ears had returned and she felt the sudden urge to sit down.

“What does it explain?” Gandalf asked, though his voice was much gentler now.

“My nightmares.” Holly lifted her chin. She didn't need his pity. “Most of the dreams I have are of things I've never experienced. They're all filled with fire and smoke, and a city I've never seen being burned to the ground. And I—” Her voice caught in her throat, but she forced herself to continue. “I get recurring dreams as well. I'm in a dark room, and a man is standing over me.”

She placed one hand on her chest, on the spot at the bottom of her ribcage that always stung when she woke from one of those dreams.

“They might be memories from whomever’s soul is attached to your own,” Elrond said.

“But whose soul is it? From what I understand, most people need one of those.”

“There is no way for me to tell. Though it is strange…” Elrond trailed off, and before she could ask him to clarify, he turned to Gandalf and said, “I have not seen this kind of dark magic in many years. It is the kind used by human mages, and they have not been seen for centuries.”

“Human magic has made a return to the lands in the north,” Gandalf said. “Though I think this magnitude of power could not be controlled by just anyone. The necromancer in Dol Guldur—”

“We know little about this necromancer besides what you claim Radagast has seen,” Elrond said, his voice growing sharper.

“Could you get rid of it?” Holly asked, finally finding her voice again. “Now that you know what is wrong with me, could you devise a counterspell and sever the connection?”

“I don’t believe you would survive the process,” Elrond said. “Though that may change once I know more. I will consult my library again, and see if I can find something of use.”

“Then perhaps it is best to conclude this meeting for tonight. We can discuss this further tomorrow.” Gandalf left the pavilion and beckoned for Holly to follow him.

Once they were out of earshot, Holly said, “You mentioned a necromancer in Dol Guldur.”

Gandalf nodded. “I believe that is our best lead. Radagast spoke to me of a dark power in the fortress that had been raising the dead. It is possible that this sorcerer has experimented with other forms of magic as well.” He turned to her and asked, “When did these nightmares begin for you?”

“I’ve had them ever since I was a child.”

“And where did you live, growing up?”

“Laketown. But that’s hundreds of miles away from Dol Guldur.”

“Nevertheless, I believe this sorcerer may have the answers you are looking for.” Gandalf took a draw from his pipe and Holly could see a plan forming in his mind, like the strands of a spider’s web coming together. “You should get some rest, while you can. I’ll inform you tomorrow what I believe the best course of action from here will be.”

Holly nodded at him and took off on the path leading to the guest quarters. She doubted she would get any sleep.

_ So it’s not just me in here.  _ She tried to reach out, to see if she could make contact with the other soul within her body, but she was met with empty silence.

It scared her, that someone had cast this spell on her without her knowledge. What scared her even more was that she had no idea why. Holly half-hoped Gandalf was right about the culprit being in Dol Guldur, so she could find the last pieces of this strange puzzle and be done with the whole mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Necromancers and dark magic and nightmares, oh my! I promise you'll all get more details about Holly's predicament. All in good time, as Gandalf has probably said at some point. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	6. Into the Wilds

**Chapter 6: Into the Wild**

 

Holly felt as though she were still dreaming as she walked through the halls of Rivendell the next morning. After her meeting with Gandalf and Elrond, her night had been filled with visions of burning buildings and a red web of dark energy that wrapped around her body and hissed empty whispers into her ear.

All in all, she hadn't gotten much sleep. Holly rubbed her eyes as her vision blurred. She would do a little of her own research in the library, then try to get some rest. 

Holly spotted Bilbo coming down the hallway, heading in the opposite direction. As she passed him, she reached out to take hold of his arm.

“Not that way.” He must have still been irritated at her after the troll incident, but she wanted do him a favor anyway. Inexplicably.

“What? Why?” he asked, tugging his arm out of her grasp. 

“The dwarves are bathing in the fountain outside. Unless you like that sort of thing.” She didn't, but she’d seen quite a bit before she'd recovered and been able to walk away.

“Uh, I think I'll pass.” He cleared his throat. “Do you know where the library is, by any chance?”

Holly nodded. “I was heading there myself. This way.”

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, then followed her.

She frowned inwardly and mentally berated herself as they walked. She had wanted to do him a  _ favor? _ Next she would be having tea with him. Perhaps it was his wide blue eyes combined with his near-constant expression of awe and confusion. She was just taking pity on him. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bilbo said as they crossed a stone bridge next to a cascading waterfall.

Holly looked up, shaken from her thoughts, and followed his gaze. “Water and rocks. How extraordinary.” 

A minute of silence passed, then Bilbo said, “Strange.”

“What is?”

“You.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Is that the best you can do?”

“I-I didn’t mean that as an insult.”

“So you meant strange in a nice way?” she asked, and when he didn't respond she continued, “If you’re going to say things like that, you could at least be a bit more creative.”

She opened a set of impressive double doors, revealing a large room lined floor to ceiling with shelves of tomes, some of which were probably older than Rivendell itself. An elegant staircase led up to a partial second floor, where more books were stored. 

Holly snuck a glance at Bilbo as he followed her in, his eyes widening in wonder. This was likely his first time seeing so many books in one place. She watched his eyes flit over to the window, out over the sunlit trees, and a ghost of longing tinged with pain passed over his face. 

_ Homesick, _ she realized. Holly shrugged and strode over to one of the shelves. She began scanning the dim bindings, muttering under her breath.

“Ah.”

She extracted a volume from the shelf and studied their covers. _ Daegûl.  _ And underneath, in Westron,  _ Shadow Sorcery _ . 

“Interesting reading choice,” Bilbo said from behind her.

“It is rather fascinating.” Holly flipped the book open and happened to land on a page with a particularly gruesome illustration. “Does this sort of thing interest you?”

“I-I can't say that it does.”

Holly was only half listening to his answer. The book she's selected was focused on the applications of dark magic on potions and the transfiguration of different creatures. She put it back and moved on. 

Vaguely, she heard Bilbo’s footsteps recede to another part of the library. She let out a small sigh as silence settled over the library. Now she could work in peace. 

Even so, Holly found herself glancing over her shoulder to see where Bilbo had gone. He was looking at one of the paintings on the other side of the room. 

_ Strange, indeed.  _ Even if he hadn't meant it as an insult, he wasn't wrong. Bilbo didn’t even know half of what was so strange about her.

Holly forced herself to refocus and turned back to her books. Hopefully she could find a way to fix that.

\---

“Watch your footing. Don’t root yourself to one spot—use your surroundings to your advantage.”

Thorin crossed his arms as Kíli nodded and went back to sparring with his brother. His nephews had fought well against the trolls and the orcs, but there were still many dangers on the road ahead that they would need to prepare for.

“Still having doubts about bringing them along?” Dwalin asked from beside him.

“No,” Thorin said. “But there is still much they need to learn.” He had promised his sister that he would ensure their safety, and he would do everything in his power to uphold that promise.

“Thorin.”

He turned at the sound of a new voice and saw Gandalf approaching. “Is there a problem?”

“No, merely something I need to discuss with you.” He gestured with one hand. “If you will follow me.”

Thorin turned to Dwalin. “Don’t let them slack off.” He turned back to the wizard and nodded.

Gandalf said nothing as they began walking, and Thorin began to worry that the wizard was not telling him the truth. What reason could he have for wanting to talk with him in private if not the appearance of a new complication?

They entered the library. Thorin scanned the room, but the only person inside was the young woman that had been traveling with them. She was seated at one of the tables, her shoulders hunched over a book. A large stack of volumes sat next to her.

Upon hearing their footsteps, she turned and stood up. Her eyes flicked between the two of them, and her face pinched with the same suspicion he felt.

“I have decided our next course of action,” Gandalf said to Holly. “I will travel to Dol Guldur to investigate the dark sorcerer there. Your situation troubles me, and I would like to have you nearby once I find out what I need to know.” He nodded in Thorin’s direction. “You will continue to travel with Thorin’s Company, so that I may help you while still assisting them in their quest.”

“What?” Thorin and Holly said at the same time. They looked at each other for an awkward second, then turned away.

Thorin spoke first. “Not only will our journey grow more dangerous as we enter the Misty Mountains, we also have a time limit. I cannot afford to have anyone traveling with us that will slow us down.”

“I wouldn’t slow you down,” Holly said. 

“I’m sure the orc that nearly cut off your head would disagree.”

Her face flushed, but before she could respond, Gandalf said, “Thorin, I would not ask this of you if it were not important. I set this quest in motion because of my concern for the safety of Middle Earth. I believe Holly’s condition is intertwined with this as well.”

“What condition?”

Instead of responding, Gandalf nodded to Holly. She gave him a small frown and locked eyes with Thorin.

“It’s—I’ve...I suppose the easiest way to phrase it is that I’ve been cursed. A form of dark magic has affected my soul. It’s not inherently dangerous, but Gandalf seems to think the person who cast it is.”

Thorin took a moment to digest this information. He had never heard of such a thing. In his experience, magic was a lost art, practiced only by wizards. “You’re certain this is not dangerous?”

Holly nodded, mouth drawn in a flat line.

If Gandalf was insisting on the matter, then there had to be some urgency to the situation. The wizard had given him no real reason for distrust just yet. “I cannot guarantee your safety, and I cannot allow you to hold us back. Everything I said in Bree still stands. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded again. “I understand.”

Thorin turned to Gandalf. “She is your responsibility.”

With that, he turned and left the library. He now had a stubborn young woman as well as a helpless halfling on his hands. Thorin shook his head as a migraine began to form. There was no use dwelling on the issue—all he could do at the moment was focus on his kin, and make sure they were well-prepared for the dangers ahead.

\---

“Holly. Holly, wake up.”

Holly shifted onto her back, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Someone was leaning over her—Nori, if the star-shaped hair gave her any indication. She propped herself up on one elbow and he stopped shaking her shoulder. 

“What time is it?” She rubbed the heel of her hand into one eye, then the other. 

“Do you really want to know?”

She gave a “Hm,” in lieu of a reply and sat up. “Is there a reason you’re waking me up in the middle of the night?”

“Not a night owl, then. We’re leaving Rivendell now. We have to go quietly or the elves will try to stop us.”

“All right. Give me a minute.” 

Nori made for the doorway, then stopped and turned back. “What exactly are you supposed to be helping Gandalf with anyway? Thorin neglected to mention that.”

Holly and Thorin had agreed to keep the truth about the dark magic a secret, since they both knew it would cause some of the more superstitious dwarves to grow uneasy, despite any reassurances from Gandalf. She had left it up to him to give his Company a more acceptable reason as to why she was still travelling with them.

Holly knew one of them would ask her that eventually, and already had an answer prepared. “Gandalf is investigating a dark sorcerer in Dol Guldur. I've had experience with dark mages, so he thought it wise to bring me along.”

Nori nodded. “Interesting.”

She couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. 

As soon as Nori had shut the door behind him, Holly put her face in her hands, still trying to clear sleep and worry from her head. Her anxiety over the dark magic had subsided somewhat, now that she had a clear objective. But she still felt a bit nervous at the thought of setting out with the Company. 

It wasn’t the dwarves, certainly. Despite their rugged appearance, she had no reason to fear them.

She shrugged her coat on and grabbed her pack, heading for the door. The others were waiting outside, speaking in low voices.

“Cold as stone, that one.”

“At least stone doesn’t glare at people.”

Several of the dwarves chuckled at that, but when Holly rounded the corner they fell silent.

She straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready to leave when the rest of you are.”

Balin looked around, counting the members of the group. “We’re one short. Where’s Bilbo?”

“Still sleeping, probably.”

There was a collective grumble and someone was sent to wake him up.

Holly leaned against the balcony railing, watching a small stream trickle through a flowerbed. The water dimmed as a cloud passed over the moon. The dwarves did not trust or like her. She wasn’t sure if all of them believed the reason she was coming with them. The thought brought a tingling sensation in the back of her mind, something unfamiliar and entirely unwelcome as far as she was concerned. 

Holly dismissed the feeling and averted her eyes as the faintest hints of dawn appeared on the horizon.

\---

Barely a week in the wild had passed and Holly could already tell that the group’s morale had plummeted. They now had a deadline to reach Erebor—the door would only open on the last day of autumn, named Durin's Day by the dwarves. By Balin’s calculations, they had less than four months to meet that requirement. This put an ever-present tension in the air, and they’d begun sacrificing more and more sleep to make time for traveling.

They ended up taking a wrong turn more than once, though Balin did his best to navigate through the winding paths. The only person who knew the land better than Balin was Gandalf, but the wizard had stayed behind to ensure their departure went unnoticed, with a promise that he would meet them in the Misty Mountains.

A few days’ journey from Rivendell, the path split into two. A muddy trail to the north ran on even ground at the top of a cliff and disappeared behind a large cluster of boulders. The one to the east curved upwards into a dip between two hills, and would no doubt be a slippery ordeal after the rain earlier that day.

Balin consulted his map. “We should take the northern route. That will save us at least half a day’s travel.”

“No.” Holly stepped up beside him, studying the two muddy paths. “We’ll need to take the other one.”

“What makes you say that?” Balin turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, look at the ground.” Holly gestured to the mud, which was pockmarked with footprints. “Don’t you see it?”

“What are we meant to be seeing?” Thorin said, striding to stand next to her.

“The tracks in the mud. There are footsteps and imprints from a wagon. See, they’re slightly smeared from the rain.”

“We are not the only travelers on these roads.”

“There are footprints leading in the opposite direction too. Those came later, after the rain, since they’re deeper—they had to walk through the mud.  They’re of approximately the same size and number, so it’s safe to assume that they belong to the same group that passed through earlier. However, there is no trace of the wagon making the return journey with them, which leads me to believe that the travelers lost their wagon due to the weather making the path unsafe. More likely than not it’s at the bottom of the cliff right now.” She turned and fixed Thorin with a cool stare. “Whether or not you’re willing to risk that is up to you.”

Thorin held her gaze, his features stiff (and it might have been a trick of the light, but he looked a bit impressed as well). “We’ll take the eastern path, then.” It was impressive how he could say one thing, and convey an entirely different message with his tone. He seemed to be giving her something between a warning and a challenge.

“Good idea.” Holly flicked a satisfied smile back at him, then moved past to continue on the muddy road.

\---

Holly cursed under her breath as a bramble scratched the back of her hand. It was her turn to collect firewood, but the copse of trees near their campsite was littered with spiky shrubs that made it difficult to collect fallen branches and remain unscathed.

It was an unpleasant way to end an already rotten day. They had traveled over some particularly rocky terrain which had seemed bent on twisting as many ankles as possible. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, but the end of the day had seen them all sore and irritable.

And now she was being turned into a human pincushion. Holly grunted as she lifted a particularly heavy branch from between two bushes and added it to the stack in her arms. She shifted her grip and tried to keep the whole lot from falling to the ground.

“Doing all right?” Ori asked as he shifted his bundle of wood under one arm. “You’re carrying a lot there.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I could—”

“Yes, Ori, I’m sure. I’m not made of glass, and I don’t need your help. It’s not going to kill me to carry a heavy load, and it surely wouldn’t kill you to mind your own business.” Holly turned away, hoping he would drop the subject.

“Now, just wait a second.”

She turned to face Ori, who was frowning at her.

“There’s no need for you to be so rude. We’ve all had a very long day and we’re all in a bad mood but you  _ constantly _ act as though we are not worth your time. Which isn’t true, by the way— _ you _ should be nicer to all of  _ us _ . I was just trying to help you, and if you don’t want to interact with people who want to help you, then you shouldn’t have come along.”

Holly blinked as he continued to glower. She certainly hadn’t expected docile, sweater-wearing, slingshot-wielding Ori to deliver this outburst. And for the first time since meeting the Company, she had no idea what to say.

She thought back to all the times he had tried to make conversation with her. She had brushed him off without a thought. Perhaps his actions were not so unexpected.

The moment was broken as one of the branches slipped from her grip, and the rest of them tumbled to the ground as well. Holly bent down with another curse and began gathering them up.

After a moment, Ori walked over and helped her. He picked up the large branch that had been giving her trouble earlier and Holly sat back on her heels with a sigh.

“I...apologize,” she said, struggling to meet his gaze. “I’m not opposed to receiving assistance. But I don’t require it as much as you think I do.”

Ori, satisfied with this exchange, nodded and stood up. “You could try being nicer.” He walked back towards their camp.

_ Well. _

He wasn’t entirely wrong—courtesy was a beneficial component of a functional alliance. Whether or not she was obligated to uphold that component was another matter.

Nonetheless, she felt a bit shaken at the thought. Up until a few minutes ago, she’d been so sure of herself, of where she stood compared to the others. No one had ever stood up to her like that before.  

If they expected her to be  _ nice _ , she had no idea if she was capable of such a thing.

Regardless, she would find out soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all agree that someone had to say that. And the fun part comes next chapter, when Holly has to decide what to do with this new development...  
> Thanks so much for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	7. A Case of Identity

**Chapter 7: A Case of Identity**

 

After another week of traveling, the shadow of the Misty Mountains loomed behind the fog, finally visible. It was rather inspiring, the sight assuring them that they had been making progress through the rocky and seemingly endless landscape.

After the incident—it couldn’t be called an argument—with Ori, Holly did try to be more polite. It was an experiment, she told herself, and nothing more. She was hardly opposed to trying new things.

At first, the others treated her politeness with mild surprise, but that was the extent of the Company’s reactions. She still kept to herself. There were a few dwarves in the Company with whom she had not spoken at all.

Things only began to change when they set up camp one night, and Thorin assigned Holly to the second watch with Bilbo. 

The cloudless sky glittered with stars when Bifur shook her awake. Holly settled herself against a boulder and stared down the hillside. Bilbo shuffled to where Holly sat and made himself comfortable next to her. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the crickets and the hollow wind. 

“Carnil is looking especially bright tonight,” he finally said. 

Holly cast her eyes in his direction. “Who?”

Bilbo pointed at the sky. “Carnil. You know. The star.”

She turned her gaze upward. “Oh. They have names?”

He fell silent for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Of course they have names. Didn’t you—Didn’t you learn about that sort of thing when you were a child?”

“Possibly. I must have gotten rid of it.”

“Gotten rid of what?”

“The names of the stars. I forgot about them.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t need the information.”

“But—It’s—It’s something that everyone just  _ knows _ .”

She sighed and turned to face him. “But why should I care? Those stars could be named after people, after animals, they could have no names at all—it wouldn’t make any difference. I only remember the  _ truly _ important things; elsewise my head gets all cluttered. I need to have easy access to the information that matters _. _ ”

Bilbo looked up at the stars, then back at Holly, dumbfounded. 

“I’ll start worrying about the names of these stars once someone flies up and visits them, if that's possible. Perhaps someone could use their light for something.” 

He laughed. “That’s crazy.”

“Crazy or genius. Depends on if it works.” She had no obligation to explain to him how her mind worked. 

“I think...enigma,” Bilbo said.

“You what?”

“I take back what I said about you being strange. I believe enigma is the better word.”

“Enigma.” Holly gave a small smile. “I think your insults are getting worse.” 

“And you know what that thing is called, right?” Bilbo asked, pointing up at the moon.

Holly had a snarky reply ready, but when she turned to him she saw he was giving her a half-tentative smile. He was teasing her, waiting to see how she would react.

“I’m efficient, not ignorant,” she said.

“Except for when it comes to naming the stars.”

“Well, I  _ can _ name forty three types of tobacco ash,” Holly replied. She didn’t need to prove anything to Bilbo, but that wasn’t about to stop her from showing off.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows, still smiling. “I’m sure there's a crying need for that information.”

“You’d be surprised. You can learn a lot about someone by what they smoke.” She’d already learned quite a bit about the dwarves through their smoking habits—Bofur spent too much money on pipeweed, Kíli only smoked because everyone else did, Thorin used it as a stress reliever—but she kept that information to herself. She knew from experience that the dwarves and Bilbo would be disturbed if they knew how accurately she could read them. 

Holly tilted her head back to look at the stars again. It was strange how such tiny, distant lights had brought her closer to another person than anything else. Even if she didn’t know their names, they were bright, and constant.

\---

The next morning was so foggy that visibility was limited to mere feet. They stumbled around, clearing their camp and muttering to each other to make sure no one wandered off on accident.

Once Holly had packed up she turned to walk in the general direction of the rest of the group and stumbled over someone’s pack. The impact made a clanking noise rather unlike the sound of supplies normally taken on a journey. Nori appeared from the fog and picked up the bag.

“Sorry, Holly. That’s mine.”

“Obvio—I’m—It’s all right. I should have been watching where I was going,” she replied civilly, remembering her manners.

“Not like you can see anything in this mess.” He squinted through the gloom.

Holly kept her gaze on the vague shapes of the other dwarves through the fog, finding it hard to make eye contact. “What’s in your pack? The salt shaker you stole from Rivendell?”

“A few of those, yes,” Nori replied, causing her to look up. 

“And what else?”

“Why are you asking?” Nori asked as they began walking.

“I’m chatting,” Holly replied. She was fairly sure that was something people did to be polite. And if she was going to complete her daily ‘be nice’ requirement, she could at least do it with someone half-bearable.

“Well, let’s see how long you can keep this conversation going, and then perhaps I’ll show you.”

Holly narrowed her eyes. Was that a challenge? “Deal.”

As the day wore on, Holly decided Nori was perhaps the most tolerable of the members of the Company. He was rather clever in his speech, and she enjoyed bantering with him, though she wouldn’t admit it out loud. And it didn’t hurt that he had chosen to talk to her. 

That night, when they set up camp, Nori beckoned her over to where he had set up his bedroll.

After glancing around at the others to make sure they weren’t in earshot, he opened his pack. “So, while I was in Rivendell, I did some...exploring, and it turns out that elves make almost  _ everything _ out of gold and silver.” He pulled out an ornate silver ladle.

Holly peered inside the bag. There was an assortment of kitchen utensils, goblets, and was looked like part of a chandelier peeking out. How he’d managed to get away with that last one, she could only guess. “You’re a thief.” She’d speculated it before, and now there was no doubt.

He winked at her. “Takes one to know one.”

“Oh, please. I hardly think stealing one pony qualifies me as a thief.”

Nori barked out a laugh. “A whole pony? I’d like to hear the story behind that.”

“I waited until its owners were passed out drunk, and I took it from the stable. Dunlendings don’t do much besides drink and fight each other. Hardly a praise-worthy heist.”

“Well, I’d say you have some potential. Perhaps even enough to be my apprentice.” He winked at her again as he gathered his loot back into his bag.

“What are you two doing over there?” came Dori’s cross voice. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to set up some sort of deal with Miss Holly.” 

“We’re talking, obviously!” Nori replied. “What does it take for a dwarf to have an uninterrupted conversation around here, eh?”

“I’m going to get some rest,” Holly said. Her stomach had dropped when Nori had breached the subject of an apprenticeship, though she wasn’t sure why.

Nori placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t be shy, all right?”

She stood up, sliding her arm away. “I’m not shy.” 

Perhaps what scared her was the thought of having another conversation with him the next day, and the day after that, until it was no longer applicable to label their relationship as ‘acquaintances’. She was far more comfortable with keeping everyone in the Company at an arm’s length.

Holly placed one hand on the spot on her arm where Nori had touched her. That was still true, wasn't it?

\---

The next morning consisted of less fog than the one before, but dark clouds and the promise of rain hung low over their heads. As soon as Holly woke, she packed up her bedroll and stretched with a wince. The ground up in the mountains was either covered in rocks or scattered with them, which made for less than ideal sleeping conditions.

Holly massaged a knot in her shoulder and looked around. Bombur was the only other person awake. He was busy distributing the morning’s rations.

Bombur was one of the quieter ones of the group, but was also one of the most responsible. He was almost always the first one to wake in the morning, and stayed up a bit later to help clean the dishes after dinner. He never complained, and was calm even in the most dire situations, something that Holly respected.

And anyone who could cook a decent stew with a rabbit, some water, and a few herbs deserved at least a bit of admiration.

“How did you become such a talented cook?” she asked, taking a seat across from him. The culinary arts was something she had little knowledge in, but she wanted to learn more, and asking Bombur seemed like a good place to start.

Bombur looked up in surprise, which tended to happen whenever she spoke without snapping.

“I’m curious,” Holly said though she didn’t know why she felt the need to justify her question.

“I practice,” Bombur replied. “It’s just like any other skill, really. Here, catch.” He tossed a piece of dried meat in her direction.

Holly held out her hands to catch it, but it bounced off her palm and into the grass. She sighed and picked it up. 

Another piece of meat hit her shoulder. Holly glared as she picked it up. “Do you want all of our food to end up on the ground?”

Bombur gave an easygoing smile in return. That was one thing Holly had noticed about the dwarves, especially Bombur and his brother—it was difficult to get under their skin. If she wanted to, she could, but…

_ Manners, _ Holly reminded herself. Being  _ nice _ meant she couldn’t use people’s weaknesses against them.

He held up a piece of dried fruit. “Try to catch it this time.”

“Why?”

Bombur grinned. “Practice.”

Holly couldn’t help it. A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Right.”

Perhaps being nice wasn’t an entirely pointless task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	8. The Thunder Battle

**Chapter 8: The Thunder Battle**

 

_ The ants clambered in a scattered group up the side of the wall, carrying bits of food with them. _

_ “Oi, watch this!” The young boy seized a bucket of water and tossed the contents onto the ants, washing them from the wall and leaving only droplets behind… _

Holly was shaken from the childhood memory by yet another roar of thunder. She was beginning to sympathize with the long-dead ants—it was hard not to while clinging to the side of a cliff, soaked by rain and rattled by tremors of thunder. 

Bilbo cried out from further down the line and she saw the rock beneath his feet begin to crumble and slide. Dwalin managed to pull him back before he followed the rubble down the hundred-foot drop.

_ That hobbit is going to get himself killed. _ Holly sighed and struggled onwards.

“Watch out!”

A low whistling sounded as a boulder the size of a house hurtled through the fog. The entire cliff face shook as it collided with the mountain, shattering upon impact. Everyone ducked against the rock wall to avoid the sizable chunks of rock raining down on them. 

“This is no thunderstorm!” Balin said. “It’s a thunder battle! Look!”

All eyes turned to where Balin was pointing. Holly cursed as a gargantuan humanoid figure made of stone emerged from the mountainside.

“Well, bless me! The legends are true—giants! Stone giants!” Bofur said over a loud creaking as the giant stood up and picked up a boulder.

Holly decided this was one of the strangest—and possibly worst—things that had ever happened to her. And she began to identify with an ant more than ever as the giant hurled a boulder over their heads. 

A terrible lurching feeling made her stomach turn—the ledge they stood on had begun to move. She heard Fíli shout and glanced up to see the cliff splitting in half, separating the group. Holly didn’t see any more afterwards, too busy squeezing her eyes shut and trying to quell the vertigo that was making her stomach turn in corkscrews _. _ The lurching feeling intensified and she gripped the rock face until her hands stung. She barely registered Dori’s steadying hand on her arm.

The cliff tilted to a dangerous angle, making her head spin. Just as Holly thought her hold on the rocks would slip, their tiny precipice came to a halt, throwing her to the side.

“Come on, lass! Move it!” Dori tugged her along the broken path, forcing her to open her eyes to see where she was going. Her half of the group stumbled off the moving ledge and onto solid ground. 

Holly squinted against the stinging rain. They had been standing on the knees of a third stone giant, and the others were still on its other leg. 

One of the giants hurled a boulder that decapitated the third giant with a  _ crunch _ . Its head fell and shattered against the mountain. Bits of stone rained down on the members clinging to the cliff face. Several dwarves cried out as the rocks struck them. Holly couldn’t decide whether she had more bruises or cuts from the incessant onslaught of stones.

The beheaded giant staggered. The pale, terrified faces of the others flashed past as the giant lurched against the rock face. They could only watch in horror as its knees smashed against the stone before its limp body tumbled into the abyss.

“No!” Thorin raced towards the site of impact. “ _ Fíli! _ ”

Holly finally regained use of her legs and followed the others, feeling strangely hollow inside. She could already see it—broken bones tenting their clothing, blood mixing with the rain and running over the edge of the cliff...

It was with a surprising amount of relief that she registered the grumbling and groaning of her companions. As she rounded the corner, she saw that they were all alive, if a little bruised and battered.

Everyone gave relieved laughs and exchanged hugs. Holly ignored them, making sure she stood as far away from the edge of the cliff as possible.

“Where’s Bilbo?” Bofur’s panicked voice shattered the euphoria.

After a brief but frantic search, Ori said, “There!” and dove towards the edge of the cliff, of all places. Bofur joined him in trying to pull Bilbo back up, and Thorin actually swung down over the edge to help him up. Holly stayed standing long enough to make sure neither of them were in danger of falling. Once they were safely on the ledge, she slumped to the ground and tried to quell her shaking. 

_ Shaking, really? Pathetic. _

“I thought we’d lost our burglar.” Dwalin helped Thorin regain his footing.

“He’s been lost ever since he left home,” Thorin said. “He has no place amongst us. He should never have come.”

_ A bit too late for that now. _ Holly watched him as he stalked away. She heaved herself to her feet and followed the others into what looked like a cave.

\---

Bilbo shuffled into the cave along with the rest of the group. He set up his bedroll in silence, ignoring their hushed arguments about starting fires and waiting for Gandalf.

_ He has no place amongst us.  _

_ He should never have come. _

Thorin’s words stung Bilbo more than he cared to admit. Back home, he’d always been well-liked—respectable. Then he’d gone on this bloody adventure and respect seemed like a foreign concept. Most of the dwarves tolerated him at best, and Holly didn’t seem like the type of person to show any sort of affection or liking.

He felt  _ useless _ as well. Since the start of the journey, he’d made a fuss about his handkerchief, gotten kidnapped by trolls, and almost fallen off a cliff. And he hadn’t been able to help at all during their battle with the orcs.

_ Burglar material, indeed. _

Bofur flopped down next to him, shaking Bilbo from his thoughts.  

“How’re you holdin’ up, lad?” 

“Fine. I’m fine,” Bilbo said to the ground.

“I wouldn’t mind what Thorin said to you earlier. He gets frustrated at times, but he means well. We still consider you one of us, you know.”

“I’m not, though, am I?” Bilbo replied, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I’m not a Took, I’m a Baggins. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door.”

“Oh, you’re homesick.” Bofur gave a sympathetic smile. “I understand.”

“ _ No,  _ you don’t!” Bilbo said, a little more forcefully than he meant to. “None of you do—you’re dwarves. You’re used to-to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not  _ belonging _ anywhere!” He realized a second too late that he’d gone too far, the injured look in Bofur’s eyes telling him as much. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, you’re right. We don’t belong anywhere.” Bofur sighed. “I wish you luck on the rest of our journey, lad, I really do.” With that, Bofur stood up and walked away to take first watch.

Bilbo averted his eyes to the ground, a cold sensation creeping through his limbs. Bofur hadn’t deserved that. He’d been nothing but kind to Bilbo since they had first met. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about that for long. 

Tonight, he would have to leave.

\---

Thorin had assigned Holly second watch. Again. But she didn’t dare argue with him after he had lashed out at Bilbo. No use riling everyone else up with a shouting match.

Bofur seemed a bit downcast when he woke her up for her watch, which seemed unusual for the normally cheerful dwarf. But she didn’t want to ask him what was wrong, so she nodded at him and sat against the cave wall in silence.

As she sat there in the dark, her thoughts strayed once again to the other soul within her body. She reached out again, but was met with the same blank silence. 

Perhaps its owner was still alive somewhere in the world, though she wasn't sure a person could survive without a soul—the whole topic was highly theoretical. Had they consented to have their soul removed, or were they, too, an unwilling victim?

Holly’s thoughts were interrupted when she caught sight of a slight figure creeping in the dark. Whoever it was, he was taking his pack with him.

“Bilbo?” The figure jumped.  _ That’s Bilbo, all right. _

“I—um, I was just going to…”

“Sneak off into the dark, yes, I can see that. You forgot your walking stick.” She jerked her head towards where it leaned against the cave wall. 

Bilbo gaped, open-mouthed at her for a moment, then went to go retrieve it. She watched him tiptoe over the dwarves. He gave her a furtive glance and left the cave without another word.

Holly hesitated for a moment, then made to follow him, careful not to wake the others. She caught up to him at the entrance of the cave.

“Going back to Rivendell?”

His shoulders slumped. “Yes. I...I’ll be better off there.”

“And you’ll be able to make it back there unharmed?” Holly asked, confusing herself. Once he left, chances were she would never see him again. There was no relevance in his survival from this point on.

“Y-You’re not going to try to stop me?” He turned to face her.

“No. Am I supposed to?”

He sighed. “No. Just—forget it.”

“All right. ‘Bye.” 

“Goodbye.” He turned and began making his way along the rocky path. 

“Bilbo.”

“Yes. What?” He turned around again.

“Why is your sword doing that?”

Bilbo glanced down at the sword on his belt. A faint blue glow emanated from inside the sheath.

At that moment they heard a shout come from inside the cave, followed by the metallic scrape of a sword being drawn. Holly made to rush back in, but Bilbo grabbed her arm. 

“Wait! It might be dangerous!”

“Whatever led you to that conclusion?” she shot back, but decided to proceed with caution anyway.

Sure enough, the shouts of the Company were interspersed with guttural squawks and snarls. Holly sidled to the entrance of the cave and peered in. 

It was not a pleasant sight. A swarm of goblins had flooded into the cave and dragged the dwarves to the back of it, where a large hole had opened up. Holly had never seen a goblin before, and only assumed that was what the shrunken, flesh-colored orcish creatures were. 

“What’s going on?” Bilbo tried to get a glimpse of the scene over Holly’s shoulder.

“Goblins. They’re kidnapping the dwarves.”

“W-We have to do something!” 

Holly raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were leaving for Rivendell.”

Bilbo opened his mouth, then closed it, conflicted. Finally, he said, “Well, I can’t just leave you to deal with them alone, can I?”

She blinked a couple of times, taken aback by his reply. “Fine. You can come along, if you want.”

The goblins and the Company had disappeared into the back of the cave. The two of them crept towards it. Through the dim light, Holly could see a steep tunnel leading downwards. The faint cries of the goblins echoed through the gloom.

Bilbo straightened his shoulders. “I suppose we should go get them.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

\---

It was dim in the goblins’ little hideaway, and smelled something awful. And ‘little hideaway’ turned out to be a slight understatement. The tiny, steep tunnel they’d stumbled down opened up into a vast cavern that wound around a corner and out of sight. Rickety wooden bridges and walkways lined the walls. Holly wondered how they'd managed to procure so much wood. An immense chasm ran through the middle of the cavern. The dirty, sulphurous light cast by the torches did not illuminate the bottom. She tried not to think about what it would be like to fall down there. 

A great uproar came from further back in the cave. Perhaps the goblins had turned the dwarves’ capture into a public event. Or a public execution. Holly tried not to think about that as well.

“So, um, do we have a plan?” Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. 

“Judging by the size of this cavern we’re most likely outnumbered, meaning we’ll want to take a more stealthy approach. As for getting the dwarves out...” Her eyes darted around the area as she made her way further into the cavern. 

“Wait.”

Holly stopped and turned around as Bilbo hurried to catch up with her.

“You-You should probably stay behind me. Since I have a sword, and you don’t.” He drew his short sword as he said this, its blue glow casting light on the worn walkway.

She tilted her head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Look at you, being all magnanimous.”

Bilbo stared back at her. “Um.”

That sounded a bit too close to a compliment, Holly realized. “It’s a step up from fainting, anyway.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She smiled for real this time. “Probably not.”

They both jumped at a loud  _ thud _ from behind them. A goblin had jumped down from one of the higher platforms. It drew a nasty-looking sword and charged.

At the same time, someone grabbed Holly by the collar and began dragging her away from the scene.

“Got ourselves a straggler, eh?” came a voice that sounded just  _ grimy _ and could only belong to another goblin. Holly shoved at the creature with one shoulder, heart pounding. It stumbled and changed tactics, wrestling her to the ground. 

“ _ No _ .” Holly struggled as the goblin’s hands found her throat. She wouldn’t be able to overpower him, that much was clear. With fumbling fingers, she withdrew the dagger in her pocket and stabbed at her captor, screwing her eyes shut. She felt the dagger slice through flesh and muscle as hot liquid spattered over her hand and face. Holly shoved the carcass off of her and climbed to her feet, limbs shaking. She watched the goblin twitch once before going still, copious amounts of blood leaking from the open wound on its neck.

Holly tried to wipe the blood off her face, smearing it across her skin. That had been too close. 

Bilbo was engaged in a sword fight with the other goblin. He had some skill with his sword, but the goblin’s vicious blows pushed him back. Regardless of skill, he showed obvious hesitation. Holly kept clear of the fight—she would endanger them both if she interfered.

It all happened so fast. One moment Bilbo was holding his own against the goblin, but it jumped up and latched onto his back, making him stumble close to the edge.

“Bilbo!” She started forward without thinking. But she couldn’t reach them in time, and could only watch as both Bilbo and the goblin tumbled over the edge of the platform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think!


	9. The Light Upon the Hill

**Chapter 9: The Light Upon the Hill**

 

Holly’s knife fell from limp fingers as she rushed to the edge of the platform. She looked down into the darkness, frantically searching, but there was nothing there—he was  _ gone. _

She could have helped him. She could have done something to distract the goblin—but she’d stood there, and Bilbo had paid for it with his life.

The sensation of a grubby hand closing around her arm felt distant and irrelevant. She didn’t bother to fight as a goblin dragged her away from the edge of the platform. Her hands were balled into fists and shaking with anger, though she wasn’t sure what would make her feel this way. She had seen plenty of people die before. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

Holly finally looked up as a booming voice echoed throughout the cavern.

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

At the end of the platform was a throne—if you could call it that—and seated upon it was a creature that could only be the king of the goblins. He was the ugliest and most obese of not merely the goblins, but of all the intelligent life forms Holly had ever encountered. And gathered in a hostile group before the king was the rest of the Company, ringed in by a group of goblins. The one holding her shoved her into the group.

“Dwarves, your Malevolence,” one of the goblins in the front of the group said.

“ _ Dwarves _ ?” 

“We found em’ on the front porch,” the goblin replied, puffing out his bony chest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Search them!”

The goblins converged on their group, pawing through clothes in search of other weapons. Holly shied away from their groping hands, the image of Bilbo falling from the platform still smarting behind her eyelids. 

A loud clatter sounded as a goblin dumped Nori’s entire bag of stolen goods onto the floor. One of the goblins snatched up a candelabra. “Look! They are in league with elves!”

“It’s just a couple of keepsakes,” Nori said in response to Dori’s accusing glare. Nori was spared, however, as Dori caught sight of Holly.

“Holly! Thank Mahal you’re all right! We thought we’d lost you.” 

“That would be a tragedy, I’m sure,” she said, unsure why he was so relieved.

Dori put a hand on her shoulder. “You've got blood all over your face.”

Holly reached up to wipe more of it off. “It's not mine. I killed one of the goblins.”

Nori nodded approvingly while Dori asked, “And where’s Bilbo?” 

She swallowed hard. “Gone.”

He nodded in sympathy. “I knew the lad wasn’t fit for this sort of thing. At least he got out while he could.”

Holly stared. He thought Bilbo had  _ left. _ Perhaps it was better that way.

“If they will not talk, we’ll make them squawk!” the goblin king’s voice caused her to turn. “Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker!” His beady eyes locked on Holly. She clenched her jaw and glared back. “Well, what have we here? A little girl?” He leaned forward, the throne creaking under his weight. “Don’t be shy, now.”

Dori and Nori moved shoulder-to-shoulder to form a barrier between her and the advancing goblins, an act that she couldn’t make any sense of. It was useless anyway—the goblins shoved them aside and grabbed her arms. She wondered how such bony creatures could be so strong.

Holly kept her chin up as the goblins pulled her to the front of the crowd. Whatever was about to happen, she would not give them the satisfaction of watching her cower.

The rest of the goblins hooted and cackled as their king leaned back, a smug grin pulling at his lips.

“Now, what do you say we have a little chat about you and your friends? You tell me what you are doing in these parts, and I will make your death a little less painful than originally intended.”

Holly suggested he do something physiologically impossible.

The goblin’s eyes narrowed. “Really, now? And how would you like your head split open on the rocks down below?”

She was about to tell him right where he could stick those rocks, (where was this anger coming from?) but the words died in her throat as the two goblins holding her dragged her to the edge of the platform. Holly had to remind herself to breathe as she caught a glimpse of the inky blackness below. She would rather have them slit her throat.

“Wait!” Thorin pushed his way to the front of the group, drawing the goblin king’s attention away from her.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror—King under the Mountain.” The goblin gave an exaggerated bow. “Oh, but I’m forgetting—you don’t have a mountain, and you’re not a king. Which makes you...nobody, really.” 

A malicious grin stretched over his pudgy face. “I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just a head—nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak. An old enemy of yours...a pale orc astride a white warg.”

Holly realized they were trapped here—cornered under a mountain and outnumbered one hundred to one. If this orc, whoever he was, wanted them dead, they would have no chance of survival.

“Azog the Defiler was destroyed,” Thorin said. “He was slain in battle long ago.”

“So you think his defiling days are done, do you?” The goblin king smirked and turned to a tiny, shriveled goblin hanging on a wire. “Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize.” The goblin cackled and began scrawling out the message.

Holly felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with rage surge through her. She couldn’t let this happen. She  _ wouldn’t _ . Not after what happened to Bilbo. 

“Stop!” Her cry drew the goblin king’s attention back in her direction. “You’re making a mistake, you…” Holly faltered as a twisted grin stretched across his pudgy face. Goblins profited only from the pain of others. There was nothing she could use to bargain with him. Perhaps speaking up hadn’t been the best idea, not while she was still so close to the edge of the platform.

“Ah, I almost forgot about you, my dear. We can’t have that sort of disrespect go overlooked, can we?” The crowd of goblins roared and Holly tried to keep her hands still. With a dismissive wave, the goblin king said, “Throw her over the edge.”

Both goblins gave a hard shove to her shoulders and everything tilted upside down. 

A sickening moment of freefall made her squeeze her eyes shut as the shouts of the Company echoed above her. Then a wall of rock slammed against her body, knocking the air from her lungs. She tumbled down a steep slope and fell against another rock, and the process repeated itself.

All became chaos and it seemed as though rocks battered her from all sides, relentless in the blackness of the cave. After many painful minutes (hours? days?), she finally came to a halt and gravity righted itself. Holly barely had time to groan before blackness settled upon her eyelids.

\---

When Holly came to, she blinked, confused by the pitch blackness and complete silence surrounding her. For a moment she wondered if she had died—how could she be in this much pain and still live? It hurt to breathe. She shifted a little, wincing as a rock jabbed her shoulder. If she hadn’t died, she had likely broken all her bones.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

And she'd done it all for nothing. The goblins would slaughter the Company anyway. Or they would live long enough to for the orcs to arrive, and  _ then _ they'd be slaughtered. And she’d die in this damned hole because she actually cared what happened to them. 

There came a horrible, wretched cry that echoed throughout the walls of the cave, startling her. The echoes allowed her to map out the basic structure of the area in which she had landed—some sort of system of tunnels, most likely natural judging by its irregular structure. There was barely enough lighting to deduce anything else.

Another cry sounded, this one closer, so Holly struggled to her feet with a groan. Whatever was coming, it did not sound happy.

Holly stumbled backwards as something rammed right into her. She stared at the dim figure for a moment. “Bilbo?”

“ _ Holly _ ?” His voice quavered in the oppressive dark.

“Oh.” She grasped his shoulders. “You’re—” She realized what she was doing and took her hands away. “Not dead, surprisingly.”

Holly imagined his eyebrows drawing together in their typical fashion as he said, “Um, yes, I’m still alive. But listen, we have to get out of here, now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“THIEEEEF!” Another unearthly shriek caused Bilbo to jump. 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the sound. “Come on! We have to move!” 

They fumbled their way through the dim passages as the howling behind them grew louder. “HE  _ STOLE _ IT!”

“I’m guessing you stole something from this...whatever it is?” Holly asked.

“Um.” Bilbo stopped. They’d come to a point where the tunnel split off into two. “W-Which way?”

Holly paused for a second, then replied, “Left!” and they began running again.

At one point the tunnel became quite narrow. Holly slipped through without much difficulty, but when Bilbo’s grip on her hand faltered, she turned to see that he was stuck. 

“Oh, for Eru’s sake!”  _ Damned hobbits and their six meals a day. _ She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him through. As she did, she caught a glimpse of a pair of pale, deranged eyes through the gap before Bilbo finally came loose and they both fell to the ground. 

“Come on! Get up!” She pushed herself to her feet and took off once again.

After a few minutes of fumbling Holly noticed their surroundings were getting lighter. “I think we’re close to the entrance.”

No response. She turned around to see he wasn’t following her anymore. “Bilbo?”

Holly bit her lip. Once again, she’d been too caught up in her own safety to worry about his own.

She heard a scuffling sound and spun around, scanning the cave walls. There was no sign of him.

When she turned back around, he was there. He seemed unharmed, if a little pale. “You might think of giving me a shout next time you start falling behind like that.”

“Sorry. I just...got a bit turned around. I wasn’t too far behind.” Bilbo frowned. “Your face…”

“Probably as bad as it feels.” Her fingers brushed against a tender spot on her cheek.

“How’d you get down here, anyway?”

“Same way you did. Though it seems you had a softer landing.” Except for a few scraped knuckles and some minor bruises, Bilbo seemed to have survived his fall relatively unharmed.

The creature screamed again, making them jump, and they fled towards the sunlight. Even when they’d reached the exit they didn’t stop running until the cave was far behind. 

They ended up in a pine forest on a steep hill. For several minutes the air was filled with their heavy breathing. Bilbo collapsed against a tree. “This...This is the most ridiculous thing...I’ve ever done.”

Holly laughed, and Bilbo gave a relieved, wheezy laugh as well.

“An interesting choice of words,” she said, raking her hair out of her face as she sat down next to him. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘life-threatening’.”

Bilbo frowned. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“Here, hold still.” He reached over and brushed her hair back to take a look at the wound on her temple, probably from when she had hit her head. His touch was so light Holly didn’t even flinch when his fingers passed over the cut. “You're bleeding a lot.”

“That's typical of head wounds. It's because most of the major veins are close to the skin, since the skull—well, it doesn't matter. As long as my brain isn't leaking out, I should be fine.”

“Well, in that case, I think you’ll survive.” Bilbo grimaced slightly at the gruesome description and dropped his hand back to his side. “How do you know so much about veins and head wounds, anyway?”

“I learn from other people. And I read. And I don't clutter my mind with silly things like the names of the stars,” she replied. 

“Is that how you knew which path to take back there? Or did you just guess?” he asked with a slight smirk.

She scowled. “I never guess. I took the left path because—in case you didn’t notice—it slopes upwards and since the cave is obviously naturally made the origin point, or exit, would have to be higher up since water runs downhill.”

Bilbo stared at her. Holly averted her eyes, suddenly finding the grass fascinating.

“You thought of all of that, in that split second?” 

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing. That’s really brilliant.”

She studied his face. Surely he must be joking. “You—You're serious about that?”

He nodded and smiled. “Nice work, getting us out of there.”

Holly’s mind worked frantically to think of something to say. She finally settled on a simple, “Thank you.”

Bilbo stood up and stretched. “Do you think the others made it out of there?”

“Chances are slim.” She couldn’t think of a conceivable way the dwarves would be able to escape a horde of goblins when their weapons had been confiscated. She stood up as well, wincing as her ribs protested.

“Are you all right?”

“Just a bit bruised. I’ll live.”

But Bilbo had become distracted by something farther downhill. “Is that—” His face lit up. “It’s them!” He started off down the hill.

So the dwarves had managed to escape against all odds. A knot of emotion rose in her chest. She pushed it down and followed Bilbo.

They heard the others before they saw them as a gravelly voice rang out, “Where’s Bilbo? Where is our hobbit?” 

Gandalf had decided to show up after all.

“Curse the halfling! Now he’s lost?” came Dwalin’s fuming voice.

Bilbo stopped in his tracks, smile fading.

“I thought he was with Dori!”

“Don’t blame me!”

“Well, where did you last see him?” Gandalf asked.

Nori spoke up. “Holly said that he had gone, before she…” He trailed off, leaving only the sound of the rustling trees overhead.

It occurred to Holly that all the dwarves had essentially seen her fall to her death. She hadn’t considered that, or even expected such a reaction. They didn’t sound relieved at all.

“What happened, exactly? Tell me!” Gandalf demanded.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin said. “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He’s thought of nothing but his soft bed and warm hearth since he first stepped out his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone.”

Bilbo took this moment to step out into the clearing. “No, he isn’t.”

“Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf said. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!”

Holly decided to take advantage of this dramatic entrance, so she moved into sight as well.

“Hello, everyone.” They greeted her with surprised stares, as was to be expected. “Well, I’m not dea—” She stumbled back and winced as Nori all but tackled her into a hug.

Holly blanked for a moment on the proper response to this situation. She settled on patting him on the back. Three would be sufficient, she hoped. 

“How on Earth did you get past the goblins?” Fíli asked Bilbo.

“How, indeed.” Dwalin crossed his arms.

Holly exchanged a lingering glance with Bilbo. ‘Get past’—that wasn’t how she’d phrase it. Bilbo gave an awkward laugh under Dwalin’s scrutinizing stare, fiddling with the pockets of his waistcoat.

“Well, what does it matter? He is back,” Gandalf said.

“It matters.” Thorin stepped forward, causing Bilbo to tense up. “I want to know. Why did you come back?”

“Look, I know you doubt me. I-I know you always have. And you’re right. I often think of Bag End. I miss my books, and my arm chair, and my garden. See, that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, because…” Bilbo looked around at the dwarves. “You don’t have one. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back, if I can.”

Everyone nodded and stared into space with glistening eyes. Holly folded her hands and waited for the moment to be over.

She immediately regretted her impatience as a sharp howl pierced the air, causing everyone to jump.

“Out of the frying pan...” Thorin tightened his grip on his weapon.

“And into the fire,” Gandalf finished. “Run!  _ RUN! _ ”

Everyone took off down the hill. Holly stumbled after them, her limbs weighing more than they should. Every breath sent a wave of pain through her ribs. 

The pounding of the wargs’ paws was getting louder as they fled, or perhaps that was just her heartbeat. The dwarves in front came to an abrupt halt, and Holly could see through the fading daylight that the ground up ahead came to an abrupt end. Of course they would run straight onto a  _ cliff _ .

Meaning, obviously, that they were trapped. 

“Up into the trees!” Gandalf said. “Come on! All of you,  _ climb _ !”

Holly watched the dwarves helped each other into the pines. After all the nonsense they’d been through, this really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her.

“Holly! Come on!”

“Oh, for Eru’s sake...” She took Nori’s hand and climbed up.

“Bilbo, climb!” Gandalf shouted.

She saw Bilbo still standing on the ground, attempting to pull his sword out of a warg’s skull. How he’d managed to get in in there in the first place, she hadn’t the slightest idea.

“Twist it!” she said. “You have to twist the sword!”

He gave her a fleeting glance and followed her suggestion. The sword came free with a squelching noise, and Bilbo stumbled back. Bombur helped him up into a tree just as a dozen wargs galloped into the woods, circling their cluster of trees.

All fell silent as an ashen figure appeared from the gloom. The pale orc sneered at Thorin, rumbling something in the Black Speech. 

Thorin stared at Azog, eyes widening in horror. 

Azog uttered some sort of attack command, and all the wargs snarled and leapt towards the trees, making them shudder and creak. Holly yelped as she almost lost her balance. Nori pulled her higher into the trees, keeping a firm grip on her arm.

Perhaps the Valar just had it in for her, she decided as the wargs' constant onslaught uprooted their tree. It began to tilt, its roots ripping from the ground with a cracking noise. Their tree crashed into another, and without quite knowing what she was doing, she managed to scramble onto that tree.

And that one fell, too.

Through some sort of ridiculous domino effect, they jumped from one falling tree to the next. Eventually all sixteen of them had piled onto one. Holly glanced down and white stars filled her vision. They were at the edge of the cliff, and if the wargs knocked this tree over…

There was a hissing sound as a ball of fire hurtled through the air and landed at the wargs’ feet, causing them to whine and jump back. Gandalf was lighting pinecones and hurling them at the wargs. This idea (and the fire) spread within minutes and soon most of the Company was tossing burning pinecones at their enemies. The whimpering beasts retreated, singed tails between their legs. Azog roared in outrage.

“You all do realize,” Holly said over their triumphant shouts, “that we’re all stuck in a tree, which is made of flammable material, in case you didn’t know—” She let out a strangled gasp as the tree began to fall, causing everyone to scramble for a tighter grip on the branches. It bent like the slow, inevitable snapping of a bone until it was parallel to the ground far below.

Try as she might, she couldn’t slow her breathing to its normal rate. She felt as though her muscles had frozen.

Thorin climbed onto the now horizontal trunk and made his way onto the cliff. 

_ That imbecile is going to try and fight Azog, _ she realized. Perhaps this was a matter of restoring his honor after the Battle of Azanulbizar. Maybe, on the off chance that he won, he would come back to help them up.

Thorin charged through the flaming undergrowth, sword raised. It was a rather foolish move, since Azog met him head-on and knocked him over with his warg. Thorin dragged himself to his feet, only to receive a crippling blow to the jaw by the orc’s mace.

Thorin screamed in agony as Azog’s warg sunk its teeth into his shoulder, tearing through flesh. 

Holly hissed through her teeth at the sight. He didn’t deserve to die that way. It was probably embarrassing, not to mention painful.

The warg tossed Thorin against a boulder, where he slumped, motionless. One of the orcs drew a curved blade and advanced on his helpless form. 

Holly looked up. “Bilbo?” He had climbed onto the tree trunk and drawn his sword. “Wha—You’re not really going to—” He sprinted towards the orcs, tackling and killing the one about to decapitate Thorin. Holly’s eyes widened as the other orcs began to converge on him. It had taken enough effort to dispatch the first orc—he would not survive against a group.

Thankfully, Fíli, Kíli, and Dwalin rushed forth to help with the battle. Holly lost track of the events after that. Her attention was focused on the tree, which was tilting even farther over the cliff. She was clutching the branch so hard that her hands had gone numb.

Large winged figures swooped over the battlefield and fought off the wargs. They began to pluck various members of the Company from the cliff and the tree, carrying them to Eru knows where.

Holly tensed as the tree lurched towards the ground, which was a long ways away. 

“Holly! Jump!” Gandalf shouted at her, as though this was all part of the plan. Perhaps one of his two wizard powers was summoning birds.

“Despite my situation, I do not have a death wish, thank you!” she shouted back. 

But it turned out she did not have a choice. The branch she was holding snapped, and she found herself plummeting from the cliff.

\---

Holly stared at the miniscule trees and rivers below, feeling sick and shaky. The bird—an eagle, if she had to guess—had her secure in its talons, but she still wished Gandalf had chosen a method of escape that was a little more...grounded. She wondered what it would be like to fall from this distance. 

“Thorin!” Holly heard Fíli shout. She squinted against the rising sun at his limp figure. His ebony locks hung limply in the breeze. He hadn’t moved once since his battle with Azog. So he was either unconscious, or—

No. He had to be alive. 

It surprised her, how much she wanted the members of the Company to survive, how much she wanted all of them to see this through to the end.

Their quest and their wellbeing was irrelevant to her. Caring about a group of dwarves on a suicide mission to slay a dragon was a poor emotional investment. But she would be lying if she said she wasn’t invested.

The eagles dipped down into a wide valley. At its center stood a tall, white pillar of stone. The eagle carrying Thorin deposited him there, as did the rest with their passengers. Holly grunted as her eagle dumped her on the pillar before flying away. Her limbs were still sore from her fall a few hours before.

The dwarves crowded around Thorin’s body as Gandalf strode over and knelt down beside him. He muttered something under his breath and passed his hand over Thorin’s face. After a moment, the dwarf’s sapphire eyes opened. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“The halfling?” Thorin said, his voice raspy.

“It’s all right,” Gandalf said. “Bilbo is here. He is quite safe.”

Dwalin and Kíli helped Thorin to his feet, holding his arms to steady him. But he shrugged them off and addressed Bilbo, who was standing apart from the rest of the group.

“You. What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed. Did I not say that you were a burden? That you would not survive in the wild, and that you had no place amongst us?”

Bilbo stared at the ground and swallowed, hard _. _

Holly considered speaking up and asking Thorin why he was so set on insulting him, but he continued, “I have never been so wrong, in all my life,” and pulled Bilbo into an embrace.

Bilbo’s eyes widened, but then he relaxed into the hug, smiling. The dwarves cheered. Even Holly found herself grinning.

Thorin pulled back and held Bilbo at arm’s length. “I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, I would have doubted me too. I’m not a hero, or a warrior, or even a burglar,” he said with a pointed glance at Gandalf.

Everyone just stood around smiling for a moment, until Thorin looked up and walked towards the edge of the pillar, eyes wide.

“Is that…?”

It was a faint, small outline, but the shape of the Lonely Mountain was unmistakable on the horizon. 

“Erebor,” Gandalf said. “The Lonely Mountain: the last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.”

_ Not really a dwarf kingdom anymore, though. _

“Our home,” Thorin said with a grin that caused the scratches and bruises on his face to fade in comparison.

“A raven!” Óin pointed out a small bird as it flew past. “The birds are returning to the mountain.”

“That’s a thrush,” Holly said.

“We’ll take it as a sign,” Thorin said, still smiling. “A good omen.”

“You’re right.” Bilbo nodded. “I do believe the worst is behind us.”

Holly felt a strange urge to laugh.

_ If only they knew…The worst is yet to come. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to abbreviate the scenes that I'm sure you've all read and watched hundreds of times. Hopefully that didn't offset the pacing, though. As always, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	10. The Bandits

**PART II: FEAR**

_ “The Soul unto itself _

_ Is an imperial friend— _

_ Or the most agonizing Spy— _

_ An Enemy—could send— _

 

_ Secure against its own— _

_ No treason it can fear— _

_ Itself—its Sovereign—of itself _

_ The Soul should stand in Awe—” _

_ —Emily Dickinson _

**Chapter 10: The Bandits**

 

Holly stiffened, staying far away from the edge of the pillar as she became aware once more of how high up they were. The others did not seem to share this sentiment and began descending a narrow staircase carved into the rock. "Oh. Are we—Are we climbing down now?”

"Of course," Kíli replied, following his brother down the narrow path. "We can't reclaim Erebor from here, can we?"

She sighed, bunching up her coat sleeves in her fists. It became clear she was the only one not heading down. 

Dori paused, noticing her hesitation, and walked over to her. "Are you afraid of heights, lass?" he asked in a low voice, so the others wouldn't hear.

"No," she said, straightening her shoulders. "But we're very high up, and there is a possibility of one of us falling and sustaining massive injury or even death. I’ve every reason to be concerned about that."

Dori smiled. "That sounds like a fear of heights to me. Don't worry. Dwarves aren't too used to being high up either. Just don't look down, and you'll be fine."

As if she hadn’t heard that before. Holly made a small frown and stalked her way over to the stairs.

Dori put his hand on her shoulder as they shuffled down the path. She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. 

It was baffling, his concern for her. He’d only known her for a few months, and yet he cared about her safety and wellbeing. Of course, he was rather known for his mother-hen tendencies, especially with Ori, and Holly had tried to stay out of range of that. 

But now she rather appreciated it.

\---

_ A metallic cacophony broke decades of silence. The gold sent vague shimmers of light through the dim cavern as it moved. A low thrumming growl echoed through the hall _ —

“Holly? Holly!”

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the ground, and how far away it was. Holly shoved herself against the cliff face behind her, breathing hard.

“Are you awake, lass?”

“I-I sincerely hope not. Please tell me this is a bad dream.” Her voice quavered as the world began to tilt.

“I’m afraid not.” She recognized Balin’s voice on her right. He was gripping her right shoulder, and Dori was holding her left. They had kept her from falling, and could probably feel her trembling as well.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Dori asked. “You passed out for a moment, there.”

“Is there a problem?” Thorin called from farther down the line.

“Holly just fainted for a moment,” Balin replied. Holly grit her teeth, struggling to recover her dignity.  _ Fainted. _ She felt pathetic.

“Is she all right?” Thorin asked. 

“I'm fine,” Holly replied.

She felt alarmed, though—before her little episode she had felt normal, if a little shaken up. Her loss of consciousness had been so sudden. It wasn’t shock—Holly knew what shock felt like, and that wasn’t it.

They reached the bottom of the rock without further incident, whereupon they stopped to rest. Thorin was still injured, and the rest of the Company had sustained minor wounds from the orcs and goblins as well. Kíli and Bifur volunteered to go hunting, since they had lost all their food and supplies in the goblins’ lair.

They spent the day resting. Dori pestered Holly for most of that time to go see Óin, convinced that she was not as unharmed as she said. Holly gave in after a while, if only to get some peace of mind.

That peace of mind did not last long, however. Gandalf approached her a few minutes later to make inquiries about her health.

“Are you feeling all right? I was told you nearly fell to your death while we were climbing down.” 

“I'm fine.” Holly crossed her arms. “I blacked out for a minute.”

“Has something like this happened before?”

“No.” Though that wasn't entirely true. She had experienced a similar blackout months ago when she'd been riding to meet the Company after their meeting in Bag End. Instead of correcting herself, she asked, “Do you think this is related to the dark magic?”

“Perhaps. Did you see or hear anything while you were unconscious?”

“No, I believe that's the very definition of being unconscious.” Holly frowned inwardly. She'd meant to tell him of her strange vision of the gold, but she'd said something entirely different out loud. 

A brief panic rose within her as she realized her tongue would not obey and amend her statement. 

“Well, if something like this happens again, I trust you will tell me as soon as possible.”

With that, their brief conversation ended. Holly let out a shaky breath and stayed silent as Gandalf walked away.

For a moment, she had lost control of her actions. There was only one possible cause she could identify.

Holly reached out once more to the other soul, this time more aggressively.  _ What are you doing to me? _

The silence she received seemed taunting now. Holly pulled her coat tighter around herself to ward of the chill in her limbs. They were getting closer to Mirkwood, and Dol Guldur. 

Hopefully she would find answers there, before the issue began to threaten her sanity.

\---

Bilbo was in an excellent mood, if a little tired. Thorin had finally accepted him into the Company, and the fact meant more to him than he’d expected. And, against all odds, he had managed to save Thorin’s life. That also meant a great deal more to him than he’d thought it would.

As the sun began to set and Bombur prepared dinner, Holly walked over and sat next to him. They watched the rest of the Company go about their business in a comfortable silence.

“Um,” Holly said, “That thing that you did with Thorin, back on the cliff, I, um, I thought that...that was...good.”

Bilbo smiled and turned to look at her. Her eyes were focused on the ground, hands fiddling with her coat sleeves. “Thank you. I honestly don’t know what came over me.” When he had seen Thorin so helpless, he had felt a strange urge not only to protect, but to help him. That was perhaps the first time he had viewed Thorin as his equal. Looking back on his actions, he was lucky to not have been killed by the orcs. “I thought I was going to die,” Bilbo said.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Holly replied. “And, you know, and back in the goblin tunnels, when you fell…”

He gave a soft smile. For once, she was acting almost normal.

“Well, I was afraid you’d shattered your skull down there. I’m still not sure how you actually survived that fall.” 

Never mind.

They sat in silence for a while more, the daylight fading.

Bilbo went back to thinking about how close he had been to dying on that hillside. It had never occurred to him that he might die on this adventure, or even that adventures could be  _ deadly _ . They certainly weren’t all pony rides in May sunshine. He wondered what would happen to Bag End if he never came back, or if anyone in the Shire even expected him to return at all.

“What do you think happens, after we die?” he asked Holly.

She turned to look at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m curious,” he replied. “You have a lot of interesting opinions, and I want to know what you think.”

“When people die, they are taken away and either burned or buried.” Holly raised her eyebrows. “And you think  _ I  _ have no knowledge of basic facts?”

“No, I was asking what happens to someone’s soul.”

A shadow passed over her face, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. “I’m not really sure. I suppose I’ve never really considered that sort of thing before. There’s no real point in speculating, anyway.” She tilted her head, an unspoken question in her eyes.

“I would like to believe that there is something after we die. A life after death, I suppose,” Bilbo said.

Holly scoffed. “What’s the point of death, then, if you get a second chance?”

“I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

She made a low humming noise and leaned back on her palms, staring up at the sky. “You really think that?”

Bilbo frowned. She was using that condescending tone again. He wondered if she knew how easily she could get under his skin. “Look, if you disagree with me, you could at least—”

“No, I just think you’re making an ill-supported generalization.”

He had nothing to say to that.

She glanced up at him. “I’m not going to stop you from having opinions. I just don’t think—”

“Yes, I know.” Bilbo averted his gaze, feeling rather annoyed. Holly’s frosty attitude had faded quite a bit since the beginning of their journey, but she could still be rather difficult to talk to.

And she didn’t know half as much as she thought she did, if she didn’t believe there were people who had lost their lives without deserving it, who  _ had _ deserved a second chance.

She definitely had an impressive mind. He just wasn’t so sure about her heart.

\---

The next morning, they began traveling again. Thorin had asserted that he was well enough to walk, and that they should start moving. No one was keen to argue—their deadline was drawing ever closer.

It appeared as though Holly had taken a step backwards in regards to her relationship with Bilbo—he did not look at her once while they packed up and began walking. Although, she wasn’t quite sure where she had stood with him before.

So when Nori, who had been talking with Ori, caught her eye and smiled, she hesitated for about half an hour before catching up to him.

“Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Of course not.” Nori moved to give her room to walk beside them. 

She listened to them talk about what had happened in the goblins’ cave after she’d...left. Apparently Gandalf had come to save them and helped them fight their way out. 

After a few minutes of light conversation, Nori turned to her and asked, "So, where'd you get that coat? It seems pretty sturdy."

Holly's coat was made of a thick black material, and was several sizes too large—the hem reached her knees and she’d had to roll up the sleeves several times.

"I don't know. It was my father's." 

"Looks like he has good taste."

"Doesn't he live in Laketown?" Ori asked. "Perhaps you could introduce us if we stop by."

Holly suppressed a sigh. “I don’t think that will be possible, since I’ll be travelling to Dol Guldur with Gandalf. Besides, both my parents are not overly fond of dwarves. I don’t share the sentiment, obviously. But I think it would be best for you lot to avoid them.”

Nori and Ori nodded in understanding. Holly turned her gaze to the trees. She didn’t have a real reason to lie to them, but thinking about her parents brought an ache to her heart that she would rather stay buried.

It wouldn’t matter, anyway, since they would part ways before they reached Laketown. That thought, too, brought a pang to her heart. In a few weeks, she would leave them to their silly dragon-slaying quest, and probably never see them again.

Holly shook her head, berating herself. And here she was, getting attached anyway.

\---

Their journey led them along a dirt road. Gandalf informed them that it led to a small settlement farther south that had been built a few years ago. They would not go that far, however—Gandalf was leading them east.

Around noon they saw a horse-drawn wagon cresting the hill ahead of them. 

The driver waved as the wagon approached. “Good day to you, sirs. Jus’ transportin’ some vegetables here.”

Holly took in his thick, dark clothing and the covered wagon and her eyes widened. She pushed her way over to Thorin. 

“There are  _ bandits _ in there,” she whispered. “And disorganized ones, at that. But they still might be a threat.”

Thorin frowned. “How can you be sure?”

She sighed. “It’s fairly obvious, if you’d bothered to look at their clothing.” She glanced at the wagon as it passed them. “They’re probably going to try to rob us.”

“I hope for our sake that you are wrong,” Thorin replied, ignoring Holly’s scoff and barking a low, “Ifridî bekâr!” to the Company.

At least he was smart enough to speak in Khuzdul, so the bandits couldn’t understand him. The dwarves readied their weapons and Bilbo took the cue as well, putting his hand on his sword. 

Moments later, several armed men came flooding out of the wagon, weapons drawn.

“I told you,” Holly said. 

“Go. Make for the woods.” Thorin pushed her away from their attackers as he drew his sword. 

The bandits had armed themselves with little more than clubs and daggers. Against the dwarves, the attempt at an attack was so pathetic it was almost laughable. The bandits likely patrolled this road under the guise of farmers in search of travelers to rob. 

But Holly wasn’t stupid. Unskilled or not, it would only take a well-placed blow to her head to end her life. And she didn't want to endanger one of the dwarves by getting in the way. She ran for the safety of the trees.

She hadn’t gone far before the clash of steel and cries of pain stopped. Holly turned around. The whole incident couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes. It was strange that the bandits would pick such a one-sided fight.

Something wrapped around her neck and pulled, jerking her off balance. Holly winced as her back slammed against the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. She tried to draw in breath but whatever was wrapped around her throat (Scarf? Cloth? Irrelevant.) prevented her from doing so.

Holly pushed herself up onto one elbow and struggled to get away, which only increased the pressure on her neck. She couldn’t see her attacker—he must have been kneeling behind her, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to turn and look. She lashed out behind her, but the movement was clumsy and weak.

“ _ Help _ .” The word came out as barely more than a rasp. No one would be able to hear her. Black spilled across her vision like ink across paper, and the next thing she knew was a heavy pressure on her arm, followed by a sharp pain in her hand.

Holly winced as her vision crackled with white sparks. She coughed and retched, trying to bring air back into her lungs. 

Her attacker had one knee pinning her arm to the ground. His hood was up, shrouding his face in shadow. He had her hand raised from the ground and Holly watched, deliriously transfixed, as a bright line of blood ran across her palm and into the waiting vial in the man’s other hand.

By the time she'd gained the wherewithal to struggle, he'd already corked the vial and stood up.

“What are you doing?” she asked, but her voice came out as barely more than a hoarse rasp.

The man turned and ran into the trees, and she followed him on shaky legs. It took only a minute before he had disappeared from her sight. 

Holly swore under her breath and pushed herself into a sprint. Whoever had just taken her blood might have had something to do with the dark magic. She would get answers from him, even if she had to— 

She had no time to stop as someone stepped into her path, and slammed into him, nearly toppling the both of them to the ground.

Holly recognized the familiar curly hair and stepped back, taking a moment to catch her breath.

“Are you all right?” Bilbo asked, a bit winded from their collision. “When you didn’t come back, I thought—”

“I'm fine.” She winced at her scratchy voice. “Bit of a cough. Running.” She glanced past him, into the woods, and held back a curse. If she had been a bit faster, she might have caught him.

Bilbo dropped his gaze to her bleeding palm. “Your hand.”

“I tripped and cut it on a rock.” Holly studied the cut. It wasn't too deep, but still stung badly.

“Right. Well, the fight’s over, so...” Bilbo turned and began walking back.

Holly frowned. She’d forgotten that he was angry with her.

The rest of the Company was milling about on the road with most of the attackers either unconscious or otherwise incapacitated at their feet.

“What do we do with this lot?” Dwalin asked, nudging one of the fallen bandits with his foot.

“Leave them,” Gandalf said. “I do not think they will bother us again. Though it is strange, that they would attack against such great odds.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Thorin asked, and everyone shook their heads. Holly had bandaged her hand on the walk back to the road, and saw no need to call attention to herself.

“Idiots,” she said, then cleared her throat. “As in the bandits,” she added as several heads turned at her comment. “You lot did well, with the fighting.”

“Thank you.” Fíli nodded. The others turned back to cleaning their weapons, mollified. 

“All right, let’s keep going,” Thorin said, and they began walking again.

Holly looked up as Thorin fell into step next to her. “All right, you’ve got questions,” she said, and coughed again.

“How did you know there were bandits inside the wagon?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t see it. The driver clearly wasn’t a farmer. Otherwise he would have known not to wear clothes that thick this time of year—obviously he was concealing weapons. And the story about the vegetables was a clumsy excuse. People always give away too much information when they lie. Where would he have been transporting that cargo, anyway, unless his customers like rotten vegetables? Took me less than a moment to see he was hiding something.”

Thorin was silent for a moment, digesting the information. “You have keen eyes.”

“No, I don’t. You saw everything that I saw, you just didn’t think about it. There’s a stark difference between seeing and observing. But I’m always glad to help.”

“Without your insight, we might have fared worse in the fight. You did well,” Thorin said.

Holly smiled. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deductions are so hard to write. The next chapter will have a full one, and it took me a ton of time to work out, but I'm pretty proud of it. Anyway, thanks so much for reading. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	11. The Man in the Clearing

**Chapter 11: The Man in the Clearing**

 

The stench of blood filled the clearing.

Through the moonlight, Holly could see a mangled lump on the ground. Further inspection revealed a dead body lying slumped on its side, the leaves and dirt around it stained the color of wine.

“Is that…” Bofur’s horrified whisper trailed off.

“It’s a corpse, yes,” Holly strode forth and studied the body. The rest of the group followed with shuffling footsteps.

They’d been trying to find a safe place to rest. Their little bonfire on the cliff hadn’t done much to slow Azog down, and the howling of wargs had grown ever closer throughout the day. They had been traveling though a small forest when they had found the body.

“What sort of animal would do this?” Kíli asked. Four parallel gashes ran across the man’s chest, the shape indicating a set of claws. A pool of blood had collected under his body.

Holly narrowed her eyes as she took in the man’s dark, thick clothing. He had to be from the same settlement as the bandits. 

“Have the wargs overtaken us?” Ori asked.

“It wasn’t a warg.” Holly knelt, studying the body further.

“She’s right,” Óin said. “The claw marks are too big.”

“And wargs prefer to attack with their teeth anyway.” 

Everyone made a point not to look at Thorin.

“Lass, don’t—” Dori said as Holly reached out to the corpse.

“Oh, don’t be so squeamish, it’s only a dead body.” She grabbed its bloodied shoulder and rolled it onto its stomach with a squelching noise. 

Another gash ran up the corpse’s left leg. Holly studied the body a few moments more before standing up.

“And what exactly was accomplished by that?” Óin asked.

“A great deal, actually. I’m almost used to being the only one who sees these sorts of things,” Holly said. “We now know that he was a poacher from the same town as the bandits from earlier, their settlement is running low on food, and that his wife recently died.”

“How on earth could you possibly know that?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Well, look at his clothing. It’s remarkably similar to that of the bandits, and he would have to be from nearby seeing as he has no supplies on his person, nor a traveling cloak. Obviously he went on a little errand for the settlement to get food—see how thin he is—yet he doesn’t have the equipment for hunting and if he did he would have been prepared for an attack. You might say he was surprised but he was clearly chased. The marks on his legs indicate as much—can’t run if his legs are torn open. So the beast pursued him and took him down but only went for the kill, and didn’t eat him. Obviously whoever was being stolen from either has a humongous guard dog or some other means of defense. As for the wife, his clothes have several layers of dirt and are wrinkled, meaning he’s been putting off washing them, probably doesn’t know how. Can’t be due to a water shortage since there’s a stream nearby.” She gave this analysis at a rapid pace and turned to the others. “Did I miss anything?”

The dwarves just stared. Holly gave them a moment to sort through all the information. It was hardly their fault if they didn’t think as fast as she did.

“You—You got all that from one look?” Glóin asked.

“Well, a few looks,” Holly replied. She searched their faces with a small, nervous smile, hands clasped behind her back to keep them from shaking.

The dwarves exchanged glances.

“Do you do that to us?” Bofur asked.

“Yes.” 

The dwarves exchanged glances once more.

“So, um...” Holly’s voice died in her throat and her smile faded. None of the dwarves were meeting her eyes anymore. 

A warg’s howl broke the strained moment, sounding much too close for comfort.

“They’re getting closer,” Dwalin said, ever the one to point out the obvious.

“They must have picked up our scent.” Balin turned to Thorin.

"Perhaps our burglar should investigate." Thorin turned to the burglar in question.

Bilbo nodded with a tight jaw and turned to go. 

Holly wanted to say something along the lines of, “Be careful,” but she was frozen on the spot. The way they’d all looked at her (or hadn’t) suggested they did not approve of what she had done. 

She had learned from a young age how to pick apart minute details and translate them into information, and did it often out of habit. 

And yes, she had studied the dwarves and picked up their histories and professions and tendencies in mere minutes. But sharing that fact with them had been a mistake.

_ They won’t accept something freakish like that. As if they’d befriend you after learning who you really are. _

Bilbo returned a few minutes later.

“How close is the pack?”

“Too close,” Bilbo replied. “A couple of leagues, no more. But that’s not the worst of it—”

“Have the wargs picked up our scent?” 

“Not yet, but they will. And we have another problem—”

“Did they see you?” Gandalf asked. “They saw you!” he said when Bilbo did not answer right away.

“No, that’s not it.”

The wizard smiled and turned to the dwarves. “What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material.” The dwarves murmured in agreement.

“Will you just—Will you _listen_?” Bilbo raised his voice, exasperated. “I’m trying to tell you that there is something else out there.”

Holly’s head snapped up. “Did you see it?” She tried not to wince as her voice cracked a little.

Bilbo nodded.

“What form did it take? That of a bear?” Gandalf questioned.

“Ye—” Bilbo sent the wizard a questioning glance. “Yes. But bigger, much bigger.”

Holly turned back to the corpse. The claw marks could be those of an oversized bear.

“You knew about this beast?” Bofur asked. He glanced at the dead body, coming to the same conclusion as Holly. “I say we double back.”

“And be run down by a pack of orcs?” Thorin shook his head.

“There is a house, not far from here, where we might take refuge,” Gandalf said.

“Whose house? Are they friend or foe?”

Holly sighed.  _ Definitely foe. No safer strategy than lodging with the enemy. _

“Neither,” Gandalf replied. “He will help us or he will kill us.”

“What choice do we have?” 

“We’d best make for the house. Though we will have to move quickly.”

“If there are more poachers out there, that’ll probably buy us some time,” Holly said.

As if on cue, an agonized yell rang out, making everyone flinch, though it sounded quite far off.

“All right, everyone, move!” Thorin said. “Gandalf, lead the way!”

They set off at a run through the woods, keeping their pace until morning had come and gone and they had reached the edge of a small field.

Gandalf pointed to where a small wooden house was situated in the middle of the area. “There!”

Their destination was in sight. But before they could pause to catch their breath, a deafening roar sounded dangerously close behind. 

They all broke into a run, heading for the house as another roar sounded, this one close enough to set their hearts pounding. Bombur surprised everyone by sprinting and overtaking the entire group. Holly had heard somewhere the dwarves were natural sprinters, but she hadn’t believed it until now.

They passed through the outer gate just as another roar sounded. Several distant snapping noises indicated that the pursuing creature had broken through the underbrush.

Bombur, Fíli, and Kíli slammed into the door one after another in their haste to get in the house, not realizing it was locked. The other dwarves pushed on the wood with their shoulders, trying to break it down.

“There is a  _ latch _ , you idiots!” Holly said, but her voice was drowned out by the others’ and she was too short to unlock the door herself. 

Thankfully, Thorin shoved his way through the throng and managed to push the latch up with his fingertips. They ran in and tried to slam the door shut, but the beast had gotten its snout through. It snarled and snapped its fangs as the dwarves shoved the door closed and barred it. The beast gave a low growl in defeat. They listened in breathless silence as its heavy footsteps faded into the distance.

“What was that?” Ori panted once the sound had disappeared altogether.

“That is our host,” Gandalf said.

Everyone turned to stare at him. 

“Beorn is a skin-changer,” Gandalf said, as though that cleared everything up. “Sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with.”

Holly wondered if the mangled body in the clearing had tried to reason with Beorn.

“Get some rest, all of you. You’ll be safe here tonight.”

Now that she wasn’t running for her life anymore, Holly felt tension return to her shoulders. The dwarves were still refraining from making eye contact with her.

She stepped away from the group, the back of her throat burning. No one appeared to be paying attention, so she slipped out the back door of the house.

What an  _ idiot _ she’d been. She should have anticipated their reaction. Dozens of times before, she had been subjected to the same empty silence, the accusing, suspicious glances.

But it wasn’t supposed to  _ hurt _ when that happened.

Holly didn’t notice Bilbo had followed her outside until he spoke. “What are you doing out here? Gandalf said we should all stay inside.”

She straightened her posture, letting her features slide behind a cool mask of indifference as she turned to face him. “What, are you afraid of the big bad bear?”

“A bit, yes.” Bilbo studied her face, eyebrows furrowed. “Were you the one that noticed that the wagon was full of bandits?”

Holly nodded. Why was he bringing that up?

He smiled, and the simple gesture seemed charming, for some reason. “How do you do that? How did you figure everything out so fast?”

“Well, I observe everything. And then I rule out whatever is impossible, and whatever information is left must be true.”

“That’s incredible. It really is.”

If anyone else had said that, she would have thought they were mocking her. But Bilbo had a transparent kindness about him that made him easier to trust than most. “So you’re not afraid I’m going to uncover any horrible secrets about you?” 

“I’m a hobbit. We don’t really keep secrets,” Bilbo said, fiddling with his waistcoat pockets. “And I don’t believe you to be the kind of person who would do something horrible anyway.” He shrugged. “Even if you are a bit rude, sometimes.”

“That’s fair,” Holly said, cheeks flushing.

“Don’t worry about the others. I’m sure they’ll come round eventually.”

Of course. The dwarves, who were known to be mistrustful and grudging, would certainly ‘come round’ in time. She drew her coat closer to her body. “Perhaps. It won’t bother me if they don’t, though.”

“I think you care a lot more than you let on.”

Holly narrowed her eyes, then pushed her blank mask back into place. She considered herself skilled at guarding her emotions. Perhaps Bilbo was more observant than she had originally thought.

“You should give them a chance,” Bilbo said. 

She wasn’t sure about that. But she didn’t want to argue with him, especially now that he was speaking to her again. “I’m going to get some rest.” She gave Bilbo a small, hesitant smile and walked back into the house.

If one good thing had come out of that, Bilbo was no longer giving her the cold shoulder. Despite whatever she’d done to upset him, he had decided to give her a second chance.

Perhaps she could do the same for the dwarves.

\---

A buzzing noise filled her ears. Holly squeezed her eyes shut against the sunlight, wanting to stay asleep.

The buzzing came closer. She opened her eyes a bit, taking in a mass of black and yellow fur and two delicate antennae. She stayed still and waited for the abnormally large bee to fly away. Even as a child, she had always been fascinated and intrigued by the insects.

Holly sat up. The room was empty apart from the oversized bugs hovering about. Judging by the noise coming from the kitchen, everyone had congregated there.

“We cannot pass through the Wilderland without Beorn’s help. You’ll be hunted down,” Gandalf was saying as she walked in. “Ah, Holly. There you are.” Everyone turned to look at her.

“Morning.” She raised her chin, focusing her gaze on one of the shelves on the other side of the room. 

“Good morning,” Bofur replied. “Sorry about what happened yesterday.”

Holly turned to look at him, her eyebrows drawing together.

“We’ve never seen anything like what you did before,” Balin said. “And I’m sure everyone here has things they would not want to be shared. But we should not have reacted in that way.” 

“I...I would never say anything to hurt any of you. But I’m sorry if I made you lot uncomfortable.” She let out a small, relieved sigh as the dwarves nodded and turned back to Gandalf. That had gone  _ miles _ better than she had hoped. Bilbo caught her eye and smiled. 

“Now, our host can be quite easily angered, so you must use your best manners,” Gandalf said. “I will send you in groups of two and three, because he will not be pleased if we come as one large group. Now, I will take Bilbo with me first to see Beorn,” Gandalf said. “He is not entirely fond of dwarves, so you must be very gracious in his presence. Wait five minutes or so, and then send another pair after us. Holly, you should probably come as well.”

The three of them exited the house and set off down a small dirt path. 

_ This is definitely the place the poachers tried to steal from _ , Holly affirmed, noting the considerable amount of livestock.

She turned to Bilbo. “Did you tell the others to apologize to me?”

He shook his head, his curls glinting a coppery color in the sunlight. “No, that was all them. I told you, you should give them a chance.”

He was right, and she considered telling him that, but her attention was drawn towards the remarkable figure up ahead.

Holly’s eyes widened. Beorn was  _ massive _ . He stood at least eight feet tall, with a large mane of graying hair and an air of feral intensity. He stood with his back to them, chopping wood with an axe that was longer than she was tall. 

“Good morning,” Gandalf said. Beorn did not respond, electing to take another swing with his axe instead. “Good morning...” the wizard repeated.

The skin-changer propped his axe on the ground, still facing away from them. “Who are you?”

“I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Gray.” He gave a gracious bow.

Beorn finally turned and glared. Holly had never seen a pair of eyebrows so  _ intimidating _ . “Never heard of him.”

“I am a wizard. Perhaps you’ve heard of my colleague, Radagast the Brown. He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwood—”

“What do you want?” 

“W-Well, to simply thank you for your hospitality. You may have noticed we took refuge in your, uh, lodgings last night.” Gandalf gestured to the house.

“And who is this little fellow?” Beorn asked, shifting his gaze to Bilbo.

“Ah, well, this would be Mr. Baggins, from the Shire.” Bilbo gave a small nod in greeting.

“He’s not a dwarf, is he?”

“Why, no!” Gandalf gave a small laugh as though thirteen dwarves weren’t waiting inside the house at that very moment. “He’s a hobbit—good family, and unimpeachable reputation.”

Beorn jerked his chin in Holly’s direction. “Is that your wife?” he asked Bilbo.

“What? No, no—”

“That’s not really—”

“We’re just, uh…” Bilbo trailed off.

“Friends.” Holly finished for him, then turned to see if she’d said the right thing. Bilbo gave her a small nod.

She dropped her gaze to the vibrant grass at her feet.  _ Friends… _ She supposed it was an adequate label. She tried not to think of the implications of the word.

The skin-changer turned his attention back to Gandalf. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, well, the fact is, we’ve had a bad time of it, from goblins in the mountains—”

“What did you go near goblins for? Stupid thing to do.”

Holly’s lips twitched. This Beorn person was quite the character.

“You are absolutely right. You see…” Gandalf trailed off as the skin-changer lifted his axe and growled at something behind them.

Balin and Dwalin had come down the path, nodding and smiling with their thumbs tucked into their belts.

“Oh. I, uh, must confess that several of our group are, in fact, dwarves.”

“Do you call two several?” Beorn scowled.

“Well. Um. We have a good deal more than two…” Gandalf trailed off again as Beorn raised his axe again.

A couple more had arrived. “Oin, Glóin, at your service.”

“I don’t want your service,” Beorn said.

“And here are some more of our happy troop,” Gandalf said, trying and failing to take control of the situation. Beorn lifted his axe again as Dori and Ori came as well.

This went on for a while, with more service being offered and refused, until all the dwarves had introduced themselves. Beorn offered them breakfast, and the dwarves graciously accepted the invitation as though they hadn’t raided his pantry the previous night.

Once they were all situated in the dining room, Beorn addressed Thorin. “So, you are the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?”

“How do you know of Azog?” 

“My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the orcs came down from the north,” Beorn replied, his voice falling into a darker tone. “The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him.”

“There are others like you?” Bilbo asked.

“Once there were many. Now there is only one.”

Several of the dwarves became interested in their food. 

“You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?” Beorn asked, changing the subject.

“Before Durin’s Day falls, yes,” Gandalf replied. 

“You are running out of time.”

“That is why we must go through Mirkwood.”

“A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees,” Beorn said. “There is an alliance between the Orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there except in great need.”

“We will take the Elven Road. That path is still safe.”

“Safe?” Beorn scoffed. “The Mirkwood Elves are not like their kin. They are less wise and more dangerous. But it matters not.” 

“What do you mean?” Thorin growled, already incensed from the mention of elves.

“These lands are crawling with orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive.” Several of the dwarves stiffened. “I have never liked dwarves. But you seem to be a respectable group, and I hate orcs more than I do dwarves. Whatever you need, I will provide.”

“You should all spend the day getting ready, and rest well,” Gandalf said. “Tomorrow, you will need your strength.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be pretty fluffy, so look forward to that :) And as always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think!


	12. A Break in the Chain

**Chapter 12: A Break in the Chain**

 

"So you use flowers as a form of communication?" 

Holly shifted into a more comfortable position. She was lying under one of the large oaks in Beorn's garden, her coat bunched up under her head. Bilbo was sitting next to her, leaning against the trunk of the tree. 

"Well, not exactly. It's really more of a gesture, I suppose. Different colors have different meanings. Pink carnations are given as a show of gratitude, geraniums mean comfort, and so on."

"Why wouldn't you just tell someone what you want to say instead of giving them flowers?"

"Sometimes you can do both," Bilbo replied. "But flowers are mainly used for courtship."

"So you can't talk to someone if you're courting them?"

Bilbo gave a half-exasperated laugh. "You've never been courted, have you?"

"Me? Think about that for a moment." Of all the least likely things to happen to her, courting wasn't even on the list. "I'm too short, anyway. People always think of me as a child." Traveling with dwarves was a welcome change. It was nice to be around people that were closer to her height.

"Too short? What's that supposed to mean?"

Holly raised any eyebrow. "Well, I don't know if you've ever seen a normal-sized human, but I am of a height less than average—"

"But why are you making yourself the odd one out?"

'Odd one out' was a bit of an understatement. She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm certain there are quite a lot of people who would consider hobbits to be  _ too short _ . But we don't think of it like that. Everyone else is just extraordinarily tall. It's all a matter of perspective."

“No, no, it's different in my case. It would be totally incorrect to classify the majority as outliers.”

“Can you repeat that? In Westron this time?”

Holly laughed. “Sorry. I’m just saying that when you look at the big picture, you can’t just ignore that some people don’t fit in. But that’s just my  _ perspective _ .” Holly laid back down. She liked spending time with Bilbo. He wasn't as quick-witted as Nori, but he was kind, and clever, and he had a nice smile...

"Holly?"

"Hm?"

"You’re smiling. What are you thinking about?"

"Oh. Just the weather. It's nice out today." That was a stupid thing to say. What had they been talking about? Flowers. Right. "Hemlock is an extremely poisonous plant. So you could send someone hemlock flowers as a death threat."

"That's...interesting."

"If you ingest the plant it causes death by paralysis of the muscles.” She wasn't about to tell Bilbo she'd been thinking about his smile, aesthetically pleasing or not. Best put it out of her head. 

"We could send some to the Pale Orc.” They both giggled.

“That would save us a bit of trouble, wouldn’t it?” Holly took note of the way Bilbo’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, then settled her gaze back on the sky.

And he was funny—she could add that to her list. Not that she was making one.

\---

They should have started moving already. 

Thorin knew the group needed time to heal and rest—himself included. The wounds Azog’s beast had inflicted still twinged when he moved his left arm, even though Óin had treated them half a week ago. He knew they would scar.

Yet he felt uneasy being so idle, wandering the grounds around Beorn’s house. Their deadline was drawing ever closer and Thorin knew they couldn’t afford to delay much longer. Being so close to death, seeing his kin at the brink of that cliff—it had only strengthened his desire to take back the mountain, to build a haven where his people would be safe from harm.

A strange, soft noise shook him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw Holly surrounded by dogs almost as tall as she was—and  _ laughing _ .

“I never took you for a dog person,” he said, stepping closer as she reached up to pet one of them.

Upon hearing his voice she lowered her hand and turned around. “I’m not a dog person, I’m a human. Do you need something?”

She was being uncongenial as ever, but her tone contained no hostility. Thorin wasn’t sure what to make of that, but Holly had made it clear that she didn’t wish to reciprocate any friendly conversation.

“I need to talk to you about what happened in the woods.”

Holly raised an eyebrow. “More questions, then?”

“Why did you not tell us about your skills?”

Her lips pursed into a scowl. The group of dogs trotted away. “You were there, weren’t you? You saw how they reacted. I was trying to avoid a conflict.”

“Conflict? Everyone in the Company knows you are more likely to start a fight than avoid one. What makes this time different?” 

Her fingers tugged on the cuff of her coat sleeve. “My deductive skills have helped me in the past and even saved my life on a few occasions. If the Company can’t see why such methods would be useful, that’s hardly my problem.”

She hadn’t answered the question, but Thorin mention that. “I never said your skills wouldn’t be useful.”

At this, her eyebrows rose. “So you’re not angry?”

He had been, at first. Such and strange and invasive capability had left him with the same mindset as the others—he felt threatened. There were parts of his past he would prefer be left in the dark.

But Holly had become a useful member of their group as well. Her scrawny build wasn’t suited for combat, but she had survived so far, and managed to help them into the Misty Mountains, and in her own way had defended the group from the bandits. 

“No, I’m not angry. It seems I underestimated your capabilities.” 

The vaguest hint of a smile appeared at the corners of her lips as she nodded. 

“But if we are to be successful in this quest I need everyone to be honest with each other. I need to know—is there anything else that you've kept hidden?”

Her eyebrows raised a little as she locked eyes with him. “You already know about the dark magic. That’s the biggest skeleton I have in my closet. Is that all?”

“One more thing.” He withdrew a dagger and held it out to her, blade down. He had borrowed it from Fíli, who wouldn’t miss it—Mahal knew how many knives his nephew had hidden on his person.

Holly reached out, hesitated, then accepted the weapon. “Thank you.”

“You could have died during that bandit attack. You need a way to defend yourself.”

“I’ll try not to die, then.” Holly turned to walk away.

“Do you know how to use that?”

She turned back with a sigh. “There are vital arteries in the neck, under the biceps, the heart or lungs, and inside the upper thighs—a sufficient strike would leave my opponent dead or dying.”

At least she had some semblance of knowledge when it came to combat. Thorin wondered if she had fought, or even killed, before. “That knowledge will serve you well in battle, but you’ll still be vulnerable if you haven’t had any practice.”

Holly raised her eyebrows. “What are you suggesting, then?”

“I am suggesting that you close your mouth and let me show you how to use a knife.” He held his hand out.

She handed the dagger back to him. “All right, then. Show me.”

And though her attitude was still slightly petulant, he thought her shoulders were less stiff, and her eyes seemed a bit brighter.

\---

Beorn had given them supplies and ponies for their journey to Mirkwood. He’d also given several warnings about poisonous streams and spiders among the other dangers lurking in the forest.

As the dwarves began loading their ponies with supplies, Holly walked over to Gandalf. “When are we going to leave for Dol Guldur?”

“I will be leaving once we arrive at Mirkwood. You will stay with the Company until I am able to meet with you again.”

“That’s not the deal we made,” Holly said. She had been about to tell him about the man that had taken her blood while the bandits attacked, but anger swept that thought away.

“I merely said I would need you nearby while I investigated the fortress. It’s far too dangerous for you to come with me. Thorin has already agreed to this arrangement, and I suggest you do the same.”

That explained their impromptu training session earlier that day. “You knew I never would have agreed to this if I knew you were just going to leave me behind.” It seemed even wizards were not above lying to get what they wanted. “I’m not a child, and I can take care of myself.”

“I am not asking you to stay with the Company, I am telling you,” Gandalf said, his voice containing a hint of thunder. “There is no way to know what truly lies in that fortress, and you will be of no use to either of us if you are dead!”

“Use?” Holly leapt onto the word. “Is that it, then? We’re all just pawns on a chess board to you? Then I’ll play my part, but know this—if you decide to play games, you  _ will _ lose eventually.”

With that, she stormed off to rejoin the others, scowling at the taste of betrayal on her tongue.

\---

They set out a little before noon, heading east for the forest. Holly kept to herself at first, still seething from her argument with Gandalf. But the day was warm and bright and the dwarves were in a rather good mood, and her temper quieted enough for her to make polite small talk with some of the dwarves along the way. She wanted to talk to Bilbo, but didn’t get the chance until they arrived at Mirkwood.

Gandalf dismounted his horse and strode towards the forest. A few yards away, an intricate gate stood, fashioned to resemble two trees with their branches intertwined. “The Elven Gate. Here lies our path through Mirkwood.”

The forest seemed to have grown out of a stagnant pond. The trees were dark and still, as though unaffected by the wind, and it smelled rather stale, even from a distance.

“Set the ponies loose,” Gandalf said as they dismounted. “Let them return to their master.”

Holly glanced back the way they had come. A dark bulk was pacing on a hill some distance away—Beorn in his bear form, if she had to guess.

She turned back to the forest. Bilbo stood a few feet away with his head tilted back, staring at the sky. 

Holly stepped closer to him. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking at the clouds. I think it might rain soon."

"Hm." Holly looked up as well. The sky was blue and dotted with several various-sized clouds, like it was most days. She glanced back at Bilbo. He had a small, peaceful smile on his face and the wind lifted a tuft of curly hair from his forehead. She resisted a strange impulse to brush it back into place. 

Bilbo turned his attention back to the forest entrance. “This forest feels sick. As though a disease lies upon it.”

“We should give it some soup and a blanket,” Holly said.

He rolled his eyes and turned to Gandalf. “Is there no way around?”

“Not unless we go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south,” the wizard replied. Gandalf strode past the gate to examine something as the dwarves began to unpack the ponies.

“Perhaps there’s something wrong with the soil,” Holly said to Bilbo. “That would be interesting to study.”

Bilbo turned to her. “Do you garden?”

“No, but I am interested in plants and chemicals. I lived with an alchemist for a while when I was in Gondor. He sparked my interest for that sort of thing—well, not the ‘elixir of life’ part, but the experimentation on different substances and their properties. I like to read about that sort of thing every once in awhile.”

“You lived with this man?” 

“I did just say that.” 

“But you said earlier that you’d never been courted.”

Holly turned to him with a dry look. “He was in his seventies. Not the type of living arrangement you’re thinking of.”

“Oh. I see.”

Gandalf came back from the woods at that moment, and called out to Nori, who was unsaddling his horse, “Not my horse! I will need it.”

Nori stepped away from the horse and turned to Holly. “You're going with him, aren't you?”

“It's too dangerous,” Gandalf said. “She will continued to travel with you until I can consult her on what I have found.”

Holly said nothing. All things considered, she wasn’t terribly unhappy about continuing on with the Company. She enjoyed spending time with them, and didn’t want to part from them just yet.

“I will be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Do not enter that mountain without me.” He gave Thorin a hard look. “This is not the Greenwood of old. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.”

“Lead us astray? What does that mean?” Bilbo asked. 

“Hallucinations, possibly,” Holly said. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to live in this place.”

“You must stay on the path.” Gandalf mounted his horse. “If you leave it, you will never find it again.” He steered his horse southwards. “Stay on the path!” They watched him ride away.

“Come on,” Thorin said. “We must reach the mountain before Durin’s Day. Once we get through the forest, we will travel up the River Running, which will lead us straight to Erebor. And if the dragon is still alive—"

"Which he is," Holly said, though she wasn’t quite sure why. 

Thorin turned towards her, eyes hardening. She straightened her shoulders and fought to maintain eye contact. 

"The dragon would have wasted away by now—"

"No, he is alive.” Perhaps it wasn’t the best decision to argue with Thorin, especially in front of everyone else, but she needed to assure him of this fact. 

Thorin walked towards her until they stood inches apart. He towered almost half a foot above her, but it felt like more. "Do not argue with me. I do not care how clever or knowledgeable you are, you will never exceed me in wisdom. Smaug has not been seen in sixty years and it is very unlikely that he has just been  _ sitting around _ . Even dragons get bored." With that, he spun on his heel and walked away.

Holly watched him go.  _ Fool. _ He was just in denial.

Regardless, he would regret his lapse in judgement. She was sure of it.

\---

Holly felt as if she’d stepped under a quilt on a hot day. It was muggy and stifling in Mirkwood, and a rotten, sluggish odor pervaded the air.

The group was gloomy and quiet as they marched along in single file, squinting at the path through the dim light. Dark-colored squirrels scampered about the trees. They would have been good for a stew, but moved too fast for Kíli’s arrows. Other creatures rustled through the undergrowth, but it was too dark to see what they were. They had to keep their focus on the roots littering the path, which seemed bent on making them trip. That was irrational, of course. 

_ Trees are not sentient _ , Holly had to keep reminding herself.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Thorin directed them to stop. The canopy overhead was too thick for them to tell what time of day it was, but everyone was too exhausted and generally low-spirited to care. It was good enough that they’d stopped to rest.

The others plodded about, as though they were sleepy and only using half their brains. Holly, on the other hand, felt restless and stifled, like a wild horse trapped in a stall. Perhaps Mirkwood was stimulating her senses instead of dulling them because she was human.

She looked up and forgot her restlessness for a moment as concern washed over her. Bilbo sat a little ways off with stiff shoulders and a bowed head. He was staring at the ground with such intensity that it was clear he wasn't really seeing the ground at all.

She walked over and touched him on the shoulder. “Bilbo.”

He turned to her, seeming a bit startled. “Hm?”

She hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replied, scratching his nose. “Just a bit tired.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Oh, if you’re going to lie to me, at least do a good job of it.”

Bilbo sighed. “Fine. I’m not all right.” He didn’t even seem mad at her for accusing him of lying. That wasn’t right. “I suppose I’m just—well, I didn’t expect things to be like this. I didn’t know that I would end up killing other creatures, even if they were trying to hurt us, and now we’re in a deadly forest, on our way to fight a dragon. I feel so uneasy all the time. And I’m scared.” Bilbo averted his eyes as though he hadn’t meant to say so much.

Holly hadn’t expected a full confession. And now that she knew how he felt, she wanted nothing more than to help him feel at ease. It was startling how important his feelings were to her, but not altogether unexpected. This feeling, this  _ caring _ , had possessed her for a while now. Ever since he had almost died in the goblins’ cave, she’d felt almost protective of him, yet the feeling seemed to run deeper than that. And now that is had manifested in her consciousness, she had no idea what to do. So she said the first thing that came to mind.

“D-Do you want me to hug you?” Holly regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. It seemed like the wrong thing to say. “I mean—is that something that people do? To comfort other people?” 

_ Oh, Eru, this is pathetic. _

Bilbo looked up at her, eyebrows raised a little. “Um, sure.”

She faltered for a moment, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His arms went around her waist. Holly felt her cheeks grow warm, though she wasn’t sure why. 

They broke apart far too soon for her liking. She felt uncomfortably vulnerable, and a bit disgusted at herself for feeling that way.

“Thanks, for that,” Bilbo said with a small smile.

Holly felt as though her face was going to catch on fire, and hoped it didn’t show in the dim light of the forest. “Of course. Anytime.”

\---

Holly found herself lying on damp, spongy ground when she woke. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, grimacing at the way the moist soil clung to her skin. It was too dark to see much, but the snores of the Company had faded into silence.

_ Where are they? _

A blow to her ribs forced her back to the ground. Holly cried out as pain erupted in her side, one hand coming up the shield the area. The next kick came lower, near her stomach. She gasped out, trying to call for help, but several more blows knocked the wind out of her lungs.

“Stop—stop,” Holly said, the words coming out as little more than a rasp. She curled in on herself, pressing her knees against her chest in an attempt to ward off any more harm to her abdomen.

Through the dimness, she could see the figure of a man kneeling down next to her. He brushed his thumb against her cheek, and she flinched away. “You’ve got a bit of dirt on your face.”

Holly squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of his voice. It was too dark to see his face—it always was—but she recognized him.

It was the voice of the man in her recurring nightmare.

“You're dreaming right now,” he said, as though he had read her thoughts. “Does that scare you? Or comfort you?”

Holly pushed herself into a sitting position, breathing hard. Even if she was dreaming, the pain in her ribs felt real. “Who are you? H-How are you doing this?”

“Magic, of course. I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

Holly pushed herself away from him. She was becoming more certain by the second that this man was connected to her curse. “Were you the one that took my blood?”

“Don't be silly. I don't like getting my hands dirty...usually. No, I've got that whole little village working for me, in exchange for food. At least, they think it's food.”

She hesitated, a flurry of questions crowding on the tip of her tongue. But before she could speak, the man continued, “You're getting close, Holly.  _ So  _ close to finding out the truth. But since I like you, I have to warn you. You won't like what you find.”

“I won't stop until you give me the answers I want,” Holly said. 

The humid air of the forest began to grow hot as his dark eyes bored into hers. “All right. You can play my game, if you want, but you can't win. I'll burn you.”

Holly choked as the air in her lungs grew unbearably hot. 

“I'll burn the  _ heart _ out of you.”

Flames exploded in her vision, and Holly screamed. 

\---

Holly woke a few minutes later with her hand clamped over her mouth, her breath coming in short gasps. She sat up checked her hands and arms, but there were no burns. She could still feel the flames on her skin.

Against her will, tears pricked at her eyes. The sheer terror and pain she had experienced overwhelmed her, and for a minute it was all she could do to sit and breathe. 

Holly jerked forward as someone put a hand on her back. She spun around, heart pounding, but it was only Bifur. She checked to see if she had woken anyone else. The Company was snoring loudly as usual. Bifur must have been on watch.

She dragged a hand across her eyes, focusing her attention on the rotting leaves on the ground. She wished she could stop her hands from shaking.

Holly stiffened in surprise as Bifur’s hand touched her back again—and began making small, comforting circles. She pushed her chin into the groove between her knees. This was still a bit embarrassing, but not awful.

She’d never had a full conversation with Bifur, mainly due to the fact that he was unable to speak Westron. And he’d been intimidating, at first. But evidently he was far gentler than the axe in his head suggested.

“Thank you,” Holly whispered.

Bifur returned to his watch and Holly laid back down, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. Now that she had calmed down, anger began to thaw her fear. She could not let this man intimidate her. Even if it meant risking her life, she would find the truth. 

Unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching her, Holly fell into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holly and Bilbo's ship name is Hobo, fyi.  
> Thanks so much for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	13. Her Darkest Hour

**Chapter 13: Her Darkest Hour**

 

They had been traveling for a few days. Or perhaps it had been more than that. It was hard to keep track, seeing as their dreary routine—wake up, eat, walk, rest, eat, sleep, repeat—didn’t vary at all. And the scenery changed about as much as a painting. The same unblinking eyes peered from the same gnarled trees over and over again. It was as though they were walking through the same landscape daily. The only thing assuring them that they weren’t reliving the same day was the steady decrease of their food supply.

Holly’s patience was wearing thin. Their journey through the forest had been boring and predictable. Being in Mirkwood was like being half-dead, in a restless, trapped sort of way. It didn’t help that all the dwarves wanted to talk about was how dark and stuffy it was, and how hungry they were. If there was one thing Holly hated, it was complaining. 

She must have been scowling too much because Bilbo pointed it out to her one day.

“You hate this, don’t you?”

“Well, I can’t say I love it. I feel like this forest is stifling me, slowing me down. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I think I do. This place feels...suffocating, almost.” 

“Hm. Speaking of suffocation…” She stopped to examine a spiderweb clinging to a nearby tree. “These strands are quite thick.”

“What does that have to do with suffocation?” Bilbo asked, stopping next to her.

“Well, if one of the giant spiders Beorn mentioned wrapped you up in this, you wouldn’t last very long. Assuming it didn’t eat you right away.”

“That’s a comforting thought.” He moved next to her to get a better look at the web. 

Holly felt a growing patch of heat on the back of her neck that had nothing to do with the humid atmosphere. Just being in close proximity with him made it hard to breathe a little. Holly had already ruled out pneumonia, the flu, tuberculosis, and all other possible illnesses. She was beginning to fear what she was experiencing was not physical. She’d dismissed it as a temporary issue and ignored it. Or tried to, anyway—it was proving to be difficult at the moment.

“Do you think we’ll run into any spiders?” Bilbo’s voice broke Holly from her thoughts.

“It’s possible.”

“Oh, we should probably…” The others had already moved farther down the path while they had been talking.

“Right.”  _ Pull yourself together, Holly. _

After a few more hours of silent trudging, they came to the stream Beorn had warned them about, which was more of a wide swamp upon further inspection. Tendrils of foul-smelling fog rose from the blackened surface.

“You could probably poison someone with that water,” Holly said.

“Indeed, we would do best not to swim in it,” Thorin said. “Can anyone see the other side?” 

“I can.” Bilbo squinted through the fog. “It’s about twelve yards away. And there’s a small boat on the opposite bank. We could use that to get across.”

“On the  _ opposite bank _ , of course,” Glóin said.

“We’ll use a hook and rope to pull it over,” Thorin said. “Fíli, come here. You have good eyes. See if you can snag the boat and pull it across.”

They all stepped back as Fíli whirled the hook a couple of times and tossed it into the fog.

He glanced at Bilbo. “Did I get it?”

“It’s inside the boat,” Bilbo said. “Just pull it ‘till it snags the edge—careful!—all right, that should work.”

Fíli tugged on the rope, which pulled taut and didn’t budge. “It must be tied to the bank. Kíli, Glóin, come help me.”

It took the three of them to pull the boat free of its restraints. Once they accomplished that, Thorin grouped them in pairs to go on the boat. Being the lightest meant Holly had to go last with Bombur, the heaviest member of the group.

Everything went smoothly until only the two of them were left. They were nearly at the opposite bank when a loud rustling came from behind the group on the opposite bank. They turned towards the sound as it became louder.

"What is that?"

"Get back!" Thorin cried as something big and white crashed onto the path. They dove to the side as it charged forward and leapt over the stream.

Bombur jumped, startled, and keeled over backwards. Holly caught a glimpse of antlers overhead as the boat began to tilt dangerously.

Thorin grabbed her arm and yanked her onto the bank as the boat turned over completely. Dwalin and Bifur went to help Bombur, who had been completely submerged.

Holly pushed herself away from the edge of the bank, her heart pounding. She could swim, so she wasn't worried about drowning, but she knew that would have been the least of her worries. Sure enough, when they managed to pull Bombur out, Dori let out a cry of dismay.

"Oh, he's fast asleep!"

Bombur remained unconscious, despite everyone's best efforts to rouse him. Óin concluded that it must have been some sort of enchanted sleep from falling in the swamp.

"What should we do?" Glóin turned to Thorin.

"We'll have to carry him for now, and hope he wakes up soon."

"At least he won't be eating any more food for the time being," Bofur said.

This did little to boost anyone’s mood, and the dwarves opted to complain even more about having to carry him.

After only a few hours, Thorin ordered them to stop and rest for the night. Bofur set Bombur down with no small amount of relief, and everyone sat down. Only Holly remained standing.

“It’s only been a few hours,” she said. “We should keep moving.”

“All of us are tired, and it is close to nighttime.” Thorin gave her a warning look.

“Oh, it’s  _ always _ close to nighttime in here, as far as we can tell. At this rate, we—”

“Sit. Down.” Thorin glared.

Holly pursed her lips sat down next to Bofur. Thorin’s judgement was usually correct, and her desire to keep moving was motivated in part by her fear of going to sleep again. She hadn’t had any nightmares since the first, but a lurking presence in the back of her mind had her waking up feeling like a fiddle string about to snap. It was irrational to think putting off sleep another hour would be any better, but then again, fear itself was irrational.

Holly considered talking to someone about it and asking for help. She detested the thought, preferring to handle her problems on her own, but the idea wasn’t entirely out of the question. The Company had helped her through quite a bit already. She wasn’t sure all of them liked her (not that she blamed them), but she could depend on Bilbo and Nori, or even Dori to talk to.

Talking with Bilbo wasn’t the best idea, though. Holly still didn’t know how to deal with whatever was happening to her, and spending time with him was only adding fuel to the fire. Perhaps it was Mirkwood’s strange aura taking hold of her mind.

Then the memory of sitting under the oak tree in Beorn’s garden came to her, and she had to rule out that too.

Holly laid down and squeezed her eyes shut. The whole deal was inconvenient and more than bothersome, so she put it out of her mind and fell into an uneasy sleep.

\---

The next morning, Holly woke to someone moaning about dreams of huge feasts and rich wine. Bombur had regained consciousness, evidently. His mood only became worse when Balin informed him that they were nearly out of food.

“I’m so tired. I don’t want to walk,” he said, eyes drooping.

“Well, we have spent enough of our energy carrying you. You’ll have to use your feet for once,” Thorin said in response.

But everyone merely stood there, not quite ready to start walking again. Holly took in their glazed eyes and frowned.

“Well, are we going or not?” she prompted. The dwarves stirred, nodding and mumbling about being sleepy. “Let’s get moving.” A wave of contempt and spite grew hot in the back of her throat, and she snapped, “Look at yourselves. You all look so vacant. Is it nice, being completely empty in the head?” 

Bilbo caught her eye and gave a small frown.

Holly shook her head, reining in her irritation. “Sorry,” she said in what she hoped was a nicer tone. “But we really have to start walking if we want to find a place to sleep that doesn’t smell like rotten leaves.”

“When are we going to get out of here? This forest goes on  _ forever _ .”

“Well, I don’t know, do I look like a damned prophet to you? Just put one foot in front of the other and  _ perhaps _ we’ll be able to make some progress.”

Eventually she got them walking again, though it took a great amount of willpower not to just start shouting. It would be easier to get  _ goldfish _ to listen to her.

Holly jumped as Nori clapped her on the back from behind. The impact wasn’t that hard, but she’d been feeling skittish ever since entering the forest.

“How are you holding up, Miss Bad-Tempered?”

She grunted in lieu of a reply. She felt a little bad about her outburst earlier, and hoped he wasn’t mad at her. “Are you still half asleep?”

Nori grinned, but his eyes were tired. “I think we all are.”

They trudged on in silence for a bit. Holly allowed herself a small smile. She was glad to be talking to him again—she hadn’t done so in a while. It hadn’t occurred to her in light of recent events. And by ‘recent events’, she meant...

“You fancy Bilbo, don’t you?”

Holly felt her heart skip a beat as she turned to look at Nori. “What?”

“You two have been practically inseparable since we got to Beorn’s—”

“Well, obviously we have to stay in a group—”

“—and you always get all blushy and smiley whenever you talk to him—”

“Those aren’t even real words—”

“—and I see the way you look at him.” Nori gave her a knowing look. “That’s three signs right there.”

She gave a resigned sigh. Whatever she was feeling, Nori seemed far more qualified to identify what it was. “So that’s what it is.”

“Indeed.”

Holly shoved her hands farther into her pockets. “I don’t see how this is relevant to our current situation.”

“You should tell him.”

Holly bit her lip. “What happens if I tell him?”

Nori raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

She doubted he would reject her, or at least hoped he wouldn’t. But he did get irritated with her on a regular basis. That didn’t seem like a sign of reciprocated feelings.

“I-I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

That seemed to be the only thing she was truly capable of.

\---

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“There were a pair of eyes over there. Glowing eyes.”

“There have been glowing eyes staring at us since the first day we got here, Ori.” Nori yawned and leaned back on his hands. “I’d rather they stay in the shadows and not bother us at all.”

“Perhaps they’re giant insects,” Holly said. “Like the ones that attacked us our first night here.” They’d learned rather quickly not to light fires in Mirkwood—they tended to attract swarms of huge, dark moths. When Nori shot her a  _ stop talking _ look, she raised her eyebrows. “Would you rather those eyes belong to giant rodents? Or giant reptiles? Right. I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t worry, you two,” Nori said, wrapping one arm around each of them. Holly stiffened at the sudden contact. “We may be running low on provisions, but we’re armed to the teeth and we’ll be out of here soon enough.”

“Our situation must be extremely depressing for you to be spouting such optimism,” Holly said with a smirk.

“We can’t all be cynical as you.”

“That is true,” she replied. “I’m not worried about being attacked, though. Like you said—you’re all highly qualified when it comes to combat.”

“Still, you should learn how to defend yourself,” Nori said. “I can teach you how to wield a knife.”

“Thorin already taught me the basics, though I don't really see the point. I have you lot. I doubt I’d be an effective fighter anyway.”

“We won’t always be there to protect you. And it’s better than not knowing at all.”

His argument was reasonable enough. And it wouldn’t hurt, to be able to protect herself—to know how to kill. That kind of power would open up a whole new realm of possibilities.

Holly shook away the intrusive thought. Defending herself didn’t have to automatically lead to murder.

“I could teach you how to use a slingshot as well,” Ori said.

She considered the slingshot to be an ineffective and practically useless weapon, unless one was knocking apples from trees. She considered saying this, but stopped herself. “I appreciate the offer, Ori. Thank you,” she said, making him smile.

She was getting used to being  _ polite _ . That had the rather unexpected side effect of making her feel less lonely.

And if she learned how to use a weapon, perhaps she would stop feeling so afraid.

\---

Something was watching her.

Holly took in the ever-shifting shadows, the momentary glimmers of something (eyeballs?) shining through the trees. A branch cracked and Holly tensed up so fast she thought her bones would crack.

Taking third watch alone hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea at the time, but now that she was the only one conscious in the midst of the shadowy forest, she couldn’t shake the tension that riddled the corners of her mind.

It was illogical to be so nervous without any sound proof that anything meant to attack her. But she couldn't help but wonder if the man in her nightmares was skulking somewhere in the dark. Whoever he was, he had implied that he was capable of finding her and inflicting real, permanent damage. At the moment he was holding all the cards, and she had little control over what happened to her. 

And that terrified her. 

Another snapping noise sounded from the surrounding trees and Bilbo sat up, looking around. His eyes met Holly's. "You can't sleep either?"

"I'm on watch," she replied, shifting to relieve some of the tension in her back.

The tension, however, only crept back into her shoulders as Bilbo stood up and tip-toed over the dwarves until he was standing next to her. "Mind if I stay up with you for a while?"

"Of course. I mean, no. I don't mind." Holly averted her eyes as a familiar heat grew on her neck.

Bilbo settled down next to her, leaning against the fallen log behind them.

Holly became acutely aware of the way their shoulders were touching, not enough to be considered intimate, but definitely beyond the realm of barely brushing.

A low creak made her start. Holly glared at the trees, as though her bad temper would prompt them to quiet down. She wasn't sure what was causing more anxiety—the oppressive, haunting atmosphere of the forest or the fact that she need only shift her hand an inch for her fingers to make contact with Bilbo's. 

"I feel like something is watching us." Bilbo spoke in a low voice. 

"No doubt there's some monster out there waiting to rip our guts out and feast on our flesh."

Bilbo grimaced. "That description was unnecessary."

Holly tried to think of something clever to say. She ended up with an intelligent, " _ You're _ unnecessary," much to her silent embarrassment. She thought he seemed a bit offended by her comment, so she said, "I'm only joking. You've been both useful and—and pleasant to spend time with during the course of this journey."

A smile twitched on the corners of his lips. "Did you just pay me a compliment?" Bilbo pressed the back of one hand to her forehead. "Or are you getting ill?"

Certainly she had a fever considering the burning sensation left by his touch. "My apologies." She rolled her eyes. "I meant to say you've become  _ tolerable _ at best."

"Wish I could say the same for you," Bilbo said with a grin, making her scowl. 

"I don't need to be tolerable. I'm surprised you lot have put up with me for as long as you have."

Bilbo looked over at her, his voice softening into something less teasing. "You're not so bad."

"Hm." Once again, her mind scrambled for something witty to say. "I suppose it's a matter of perspective." That seemed to do the trick, if the smile he gave her was any indication. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Holly became aware of how relaxed she was. Whether it was the gentle pressure of his shoulder against hers, or their simple yet entertaining banter, somehow Bilbo had managed to shift her focus away from her anxiety. 

_ Thank you _ , she wanted to say, but stayed silent as a warm, drowsy fog settled over her head and shoulders. 

\---

Holly woke to a comforting, solid presence pressed against her side. The voices of the Company filtered through the humid air, bringing her back to the world of the conscious. She lifted her head, causing the presence beside her to stir.

"You awake?" Bilbo asked from beside her. 

She rubbed one eye, then the other, contemplating the vague feeling that she was doing something wrong. 

From across the campsite, Nori smirked and winked at her. 

Holly sat up, crimson fire flaring all the way to the tips of her ears. "I—um..."

Bilbo was looking at her with a bit of curious concern, and for a moment Holly was convinced that her face really  _ had _ caught on fire. 

"Why didn't you wake me up?" She shifted away from him, ignoring the flood of cold air that rushed between their bodies. "I was supposed to be on watch."

"I-I didn't want to disturb you." Bilbo blinked at her, then seemed to recover. "And you could use some extra sleep, by the looks of your temper."

Holly stood up, her movements stiff. She wasn't angry at him, but being reduced to a flustered, stammering idiot was far more abhorrent to her than being a bit brusque with him. "Lack of sleep? Hardly. If anything, it's you  _ insufferable _ lot that's provoking my temper."

Several of the dwarves were staring at her by this point. Holly kept her head level as she moved away from the group. 

Storming off wasn't in her best interest, especially because this was the umpteenth argument she'd had with Bilbo throughout their journey, but Holly didn't know what else to do. It seemed every course of action available to her would lead to embarrassment. 

\---

They were almost out of the forest when things went wrong. 

Well, they hadn’t known they were almost out. In retrospect, Holly figured that had contributed quite a bit to their problems. 

The group had been trudging along when Nori, who was leading them, came to an abrupt halt.

“What’s happening?” Óin asked as everyone bumped into each other, not having the proper reflexes to stop soon enough.

“Nori, why have we stopped?” Thorin asked.

“The path—it’s disappeared!” Nori replied, the beginnings of panic evident in his voice.

Holly pushed her way to the front of the line. “Paths don’t just disappear. That’s the whole  _ point _ of...oh.” She stopped and stared. Only thick undergrowth and charcoal-colored trees stood where the path should have been. Over the past few days, it had twisted and turned instead of leading in a straight line, so they were in the dark (literally and figuratively) as to where to go next.

Nori nudged her. “You thought I was lying?”

“What do we do?” Dwalin turned to Thorin, as did everyone else.

“We should try to find the path,” Ori said. “Maybe it picks up further on.”

Glóin rounded on him, speaking a bit too loudly. “Oh, what good is that? We’ll never make it out of this cursed forest!” 

Dori stepped in to defend his brother, and soon all of the dwarves were involved, shouting and pushing each other around.

Holly was just about at her wit’s end with all of them. They were being so  _ loud _ —surely every beast in the forest would come and attack them, if only to get some peace and quiet. She couldn’t even  _ think _ for all the noise they were making, and if she couldn’t think, she couldn’t find a way to get out of here.

“Shut up, everyone, just  _ shut up _ !” she said. “Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe, I’m trying to  _ think _ !” She let out a huff as the dwarves became quiet, turning to face her. “All right. No, stop glaring at me like that, it’s putting me off.” She didn’t even care if they were angry. Holly sighed, closing her eyes, then opened them after a moment and addressed the group. “We were heading east, so if we know where that is, we’ll at least know the correct direction to move.”

“So we need to find the sun,” Bilbo said.

“Yes, good.” At least  _ someone _ had their wits about them.

“One of us should climb up and see where we are, then,” Thorin said, taking control of the situation once more. 

By ‘one of us’, he meant their burglar. Bilbo looked like he wanted to protest, but let Dori and Kíli boost him up into the nearest tree anyway. Soon he had disappeared into the upper boughs.

They stood around in stifled, tense silence, waiting for Bilbo to come back down. He was gone for a long time, long enough that Holly began to worry.

“We should check to see if he’s all ri—”

“Do you see that? A light!” Bofur pointed at something far off in the trees.

They all turned, and sure enough, there was a small cluster of silver lights in the distance. It glared at them through the gloom, almost blinding after days of fumbling through near-darkness.

“Perhaps someone’s come to help,” Kíli said.

“Yes, I can see them coming towards us,” Holly said.

“You can?”

“No. It probably doesn’t concern us at all. We should wait here for Bilbo to come back—”

“They might be able to help us.” Thorin strode a little ways towards the lights.

“Or kill us.” Holly crossed her arms. Despite her best judgement, she  _ wanted _ an argument with him. It seemed like an easy outlet for the pent-up frustration she’d been harboring for days.

Thorin turned to her with a glare. “We will die of starvation here if we don’t look for help. And we are fully capable of defending ourselves in case of an attack.”

Holly stared back at him, a bundle of thinly-veiled insults on the tip of her tongue. She hesitated. It would be wise to avoid a confrontation with him, despite her current feelings. The last two had ended with enough animosity as it was, and she could see he had already made up his mind at this point.  “All right. Chase after the lights, if you wish. I’ll stay here and keep out of your way.” 

Thorin nodded. “Just stay put.” He led the rest of the Company off the path and towards the lights.

Holly marched back over to the tree Bilbo had climbed up. “Bilbo? Are you there?”

He should have been back by now. If something had happened...

She paced back and forth across the path, impatient. Perhaps it hadn’t been an exceptional idea to have the group split up.

She turned back around to where the dwarves had gone and her eyes widened. The lights had gone out.

“Idiots! The whole damned lot of you!”

A shiver trickled down her spine.  _ Stay on the path _ , Gandalf had instructed, and she’d just let them go. She had to find the dwarves, but then she would be leaving Bilbo by himself. She turned back to the tree, torn.

They were gone, he was gone, this was just like the day her father had—

“No, stop, this isn’t…” Holly dug the tips of her fingers into her temples.

She couldn’t handle it, she couldn’t lose them, it was all just  _ too much _ —

_ Stop panicking. Stay focused. _

She took a deep breath and swallowed with difficulty. This forest was getting to her, whether she cared to admit it or not. And before she could help her friends, she had to help herself. 

But her composure had slipped from her fingers like water. The image of Bilbo falling into the chasm in the goblins’ lair forced itself into her mind and she winced. Her pulse raced and her hands shook, and all she could think of was Bilbo or Nori or any of the others dying, and she couldn’t do a thing about it—

_ Calm down. If you keep going on like this, you won’t be able to get anything done. _

Holly pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, trying to relax. She imagined herself freezing over as the Long Lake did during cold winters, becoming cold and solid and still. After a while, her heartbeat slowed to an acceptable pace.

Holly let out a quavering sigh.  _ Finally. _ Now, she needed to figure out who to help first, and how.

She looked up, hearing someone cry out from above. 

The ice shattered.

“Bilbo!” She ran up to the tree, scanning for a branch that she could reach so she could climb up and help him. Holly winced at several loud thumping noises, like something heavy hitting the tree branches. “Bilbo?” 

Silence. 

She stepped back, ears ringing. Clearly he had fallen, but she hadn’t seen him hit the ground.

The undergrowth rustled, the sound accompanied by a clicking noise. Holly watched, frozen, as several giant spiders appeared, hissing and clacking their fangs together. 

She took one look at their hardened carapaces and decided her little knife would do no good against the spiders. She could try stabbing them in the eye, and hope their brains weren’t too far back in their skulls, but she wasn’t willing to risk her hand to find out just how fast those spiders could move.

Holly took a deep breath, trying and failing to regulate her breathing. Perhaps more of the spiders had gone after Bilbo and the others. Regardless of how they had fared against the beasts, Holly resigned herself to the fact that she was going to die. There was no one there to save her, and she couldn’t save herself. She didn’t know how.

Throughout the quest, the Company had stayed by her side, despite her episodes of animosity and ignorance. And despite herself, she’d come to rely on their support. She  _ needed _ the Company. She needed them to fill the place in her life that had been empty for so long. Since they’d entered Mirkwood, they had all been so slow, and it had irritated her to no end. But now their absence terrified her.

Holly stumbled back, trying to keep a reasonable distance between herself and the spiders. The one in front snarled and reared back on its hind legs. She gasped and tripped over a root. The world tilted as she fell backwards, tumbling down a steep slope.

_ Damn, I hate falling, _ she thought as her head collided with something hard.

\---

Holly was conscious, but her hearing was muffled and her vision was blurry. She could hear a rustling noise, but it sounded far away. Perhaps the dwarves had come to rescue her.

“Ah.” She brought a hand to the side of her pounding head with a wince.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and wait for help. But the rustling was getting louder, accompanied by angry clicking noises. 

She tried to stand, but a stab of pain in the side of her skull forced her back to the ground. She scrambled away from the spiders, rotting leaves slipping against her palms. Her body was moving at only half its normal pace.

_ Get up! Where is your common sense? Don’t die like this. _

The spiders hissed, though the noise seemed far away. 

_ What are you doing? You need to concentrate! _

A wave of nausea caused her shaking arms to give out. Holly collapsed on the forest floor. She gasped at a stinging sensation on her cheek. Like a slap to the face, it had cleared her senses a little. She could see vague dark shapes that must have been the spiders retreating back into the woods, and wondered why. 

Holly’s vision began to clear, and she had her answer.

Great brambles with thorns as large as her head curled and twined overhead and around. The spiders must have left for fear of getting impaled. She was lucky to have only been scratched. 

Holly touched her cheek where one of the emerald green-tinged thorns had grazed her. Her hand came back covered in wet crimson.

The small part of her mind that was still capable of rationalization analyzed the situation. No doubt the cut was bleeding more than it should due to the adrenaline racing through her veins and increasing her blood flow. But she brushed the observation aside as soon as it had formed in her mind. All she could think about was the Company. They hadn’t come to help her, meaning they had to be either lost or dead. 

And Holly was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to mix it up with the Mirkwood scenes and take the best parts from the book and the movie, to try and make it as interesting as possible for you all to read! As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought.


	14. The Woodland Realm

**Chapter 14: The Woodland Realm**

 

Holly didn’t move for a long time. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs as blood trickled down her face. The tangled thorns and dark underbrush blurred into a haze of brown and black.

Everything had fallen apart in a matter of minutes, and she had done everything wrong. She should have persuaded the dwarves to wait for Bilbo. They might have been able to help him fight off the spiders. But she’d been too busy antagonizing Thorin to think about that. 

Her head ached and buzzed, creating a fog of disorientation. She couldn’t think. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

_ Think harder. _

“What?” Holly said aloud.

_ There’s something you’re forgetting. Try using that useless brain of yours for once. _

“Fantastic, now I have a voice in my head,” she said to no one in particular. At least she wasn’t alone anymore, she realized with a pang.

_ The members of the Company are dead. They can’t help you now. _

“They’re  _ not _ dead,” she said, denial welling up in her throat. “Don’t assume someone is dead unless you see a body.” It was a logical argument and it brought a great deal of comfort to Holly. 

She straightened up. Of  _ course _ that was what she had been missing—she couldn’t just give up without verifying the reason for doing so.

The word  _ closure _ snaked its way through the back of her mind, but she pushed it away.

Holly crawled through the thicket, careful not to let any thorns scratch her, although a few snagged her coat. She stood up and brushed herself off, feeling a bit less hopeless. 

_ Never assume someone is dead unless you see a body _ , she repeated to herself as she scaled the slope she’d fallen down. There was always the chance the Company had gotten lost, and that Bilbo was all right, and if she managed to find them— 

Holly froze as she reached the top of the slope. “What...” 

The path was nowhere to be found. Where flattened dirt had once been, there were only tree roots and slimy bushes.

The path couldn’t  _ not _ be there—it was impossible,  _ illogical _ . But Mirkwood seemed to have a tendency to destroy all foundations of normalcy and stability she’d managed to erect in her mind.

“All right _.  _ I can work with this.”

_ You won’t be working with anything if you just stand there. _

“Shut up.” Holly looked up at the trees. She considered climbing up to get a better look at her surroundings, then shuddered at the thought of encountering more spiders. At least on the ground it would be easier to run from a potential threat. She began walking in a random direction—it didn’t matter because she was lost anyway. 

At least she had some semblance of a guide. The voice in her head was somehow familiar, as though it had always been there and she was just now beginning to listen.

She paused. “Are you...Are you the other soul?”

Nothing.

Holly spat a curse and continued walking. Perhaps the voice was only another side-effect of being in Mirkwood too long. Or perhaps she was just going mad.

There was a split-second creak of a bowstring followed by the dim glint of an arrow being pointed at her face.

Holly stepped back, too surprised to gasp, then relaxed as the elf stepped into view. Finally, some help. She raised her hands in surrender as another elf moved beside the first, his bow drawn as well.

“What business have you in Mirkwood?” the first one asked.

“I’m looking for a group of dwarves. Have you seen them?” Holly stared into the elf’s distrustful hazel eyes, trying to pretend her entire world didn’t hang on the balance of this one answer.

After a quick search, the elf confiscated the dagger Thorin had given her. Holly stayed still, trying not to dwell on his silence in response to her question. The elf stepped back and scrutinized her for a moment. “This way.” He began walking through the brush at a swift, graceful pace.

Holly followed the him, struggling to keep up. The other elf walked behind her. As her adrenaline drained away, exhaustion began to set in, seeping through her body like water weighing on a drowning man’s clothes. She tried not to stumble as the underbrush snagged on the hem of her dress.

Eventually the sound of voices filtered through the air. At first there was just the light, musical tones of elves, but then Holly heard a rougher reply that sounded like Glóin’s voice. Her heart leapt. So they  _ had _ survived. She ducked under a low-hanging tree branch and stepped into a clearing. The Company stood in a tight cluster in the middle, emanating hostility like thick smoke. Other elves moved among them, searching the dwarves for weapons.

She took in the bits of spider web on their clothing and the spider carcasses littering the clearing. One of the corpses had been reduced to a torso, trails of sticky blood leading to eight detached limbs surrounding it. So they had run into the spiders, but hadn’t gone through half as much trouble dealing with them as she had.

One of the elves grabbed her by the arm and led her to where the dwarves stood. They were focused on being belligerent with the elves and hadn’t noticed her yet. Holly took a hesitant step forward, not quite sure how to make herself known—they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Perhaps tapping one of them on the shoulder would work.

Dori caught sight of her first. “Holly!” He pulled her farther into their little group. “Are you hurt, lass? You’re bleeding!” He took out a handkerchief that had somehow managed to stay on his person and wiped her face with it.

Pain erupted in her cheek like the slash of a red-hot poker and she pulled away with a gasp, shielding the wound with her hand.

“Oh, it’s only a scratch.” Dori coaxed her hand away from her face. 

Fresh blood stained her fingers. “A scratch that should’ve stopped bleeding already.” The thorns had been an unnaturally bright green, indicative of only one thing. “Hm. Poison, most likely.”

“Poison? Did those  _ elves _ do something to you?” 

“No, obviously not. If an elf attacked me I’d be walking away—or not—with a bit more than a scratch.”

Dori raised his eyebrows at her tone. 

“I ran into some thorns,” Holly said in a gentler voice.

“We’ll get Óin to have a look at you.”

“All right.” She glanced over at the elf that had found her. He was speaking to a blond one  _ ( _ bright hair, intricate clothing, well-made bow—obviously high-ranking among his kind). They both turned and regarded her, their expressions uneasy. 

She turned back to Dori. “Have you seen Bilbo, at all? I never saw him climb down from the tree.” 

“He was with us, when we were fighting off the spiders,” Dori replied, scanning their little group. Holly copied his movements, and found no sign of him.

“And now he’s not. Where did he go? Is he hurt?”

Dori put a comforting hand on her arm. “Don’t worry, lass. I’m sure Bilbo can take care of himself.”

He had a point. Bilbo was stronger, wiser, and braver than the hobbit he’d been when she had first met him, the hobbit who worried over handkerchiefs and buttons. Holly bit her lip. If he was injured, or worse…

“Line up and start walking,” the blond elf said. “If you try anything, we will not hesitate to put an arrow through you.” He turned to the other elves. “ _ Ewenno hain! _ ” They began to move as a group through the shadowed trees.

A glint of something gold lying in the dirt caught her eye. It had to be one of the dwarves’, since the elves would not be so careless as to leave a trinket lying around. She fell to her knees and slipped the object into her sleeve.

One of the elves was swift to lift her back up. “On your feet.”

“Oi! Hands off!” Dori started forward. 

Holly shrugged off the grip on her arm. “I’m fine.” No use starting a fist fight right after they had been captured. At least the elves were oblivious to her small deception.

As they walked, the air became cooler and less heavy. The trees began to thin, then disappeared altogether as they entered a cool glade with a creek running through it. Holly noted that the water here was clear. Apparently the disease of Mirkwood did not extend to its elven realm.

Across a stone bridge, the opposite bank of the creek rose into a bluff that stretched above the treetops. Two large stone doors were set in the rock face, and they opened as the group drew near.

“ _ Holo in ennyn _ ,” the blonde elf said as they passed through the doors.

Holly shot one last glance at the shrouded forest behind her as the doors began to swing shut. Wherever Bilbo was, she prayed he would be safe.

\---

“This is not the end of it! You hear me?”

“Let us out of here!”  
Holly sighed. They had been in confinement for only half an hour and the dwarves were already trying to negotiate their way out of the elven dungeons. Well, the term ‘negotiate’ was a bit of a stretch, unless dwarven diplomatic strategies involved cursing in Khuzdul and slamming their shoulders against cell doors.

Holly slipped the trinket she had picked up earlier out of her sleeve. It was a hexagonal locket with two pictures inside—dwarves, as far as she could tell. The dwarf pictured on the right had rounder, softer features, like that of a child. Glóin was the only member of the Company with children, so the locket had to be his. Holly slipped it into her pocket. She would give it back to him, if they ever got out of this mess.

“How’s your scratch?” Dori asked from the front of the cell.

She brushed the cut with her fingers. It still stung, and she hadn’t been able to wash off all the blood, but the elves given her something to counteract the poison. “Fine. Thank you.” It meant a lot to Holly that Dori was always looking out for her, more than she was willing to admit. Just the simple way in which he looked after her gave her a comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Holly felt herself relax a little. Being stuck in here wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to them during the quest. She would rather be confined with her friends than wandering alone in Mirkwood. The thought made her heart twinge as she thought of Bilbo. Wherever he was, she hoped he was alive at the very least.

\---

Bilbo was indeed alive, but he felt miserable. He was hungry, exhausted, and lost. 

There had been enormous spiders, swarms of them, that had trapped him and the dwarves in their webs and tried to eat them. After disentangling himself from the sticky web and narrowly avoiding the suffocation Holly had mentioned, he had managed to free the dwarves. They had been separated in the ensuing battle, and he had only found them after the elves had captured them. He’d come so close to being shut out from the elven kingdom, to having the doors close in his face and being stranded outside.

As it was, Bilbo had managed to slip in, but he was still alone. He hadn’t been able to follow the Company to the dungeons, and didn’t know where they were being held.

But what bothered him the most was that he was forced to skulk around the halls like a thief ( _ or a burglar _ , he pondered with a wry smirk). Which meant he had to keep his ring on at all times, to avoid being seen. He wouldn’t have minded that—the ring was his only comfort and security in this strange place—except, as the days wore on, keeping it on felt  _ wrong _ . The security he felt was countered by a nagging unease and dark whispers in the middle of the night which left him with a headache and the constant feeling that something was watching him.

This went on for around two weeks, and it was during this time that Bilbo’s homesickness returned with a vengeance. He missed his fireplace, and his pantry, and his armchair. Bilbo didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to regret coming on this adventure. He missed not feeling lost.

Or perhaps he was just afraid. Going back seemed a much more enticing option than what lay ahead—he would have to find a way to rescue the dwarves from their prison. 

\---

Holly glared at the ceiling outside the cell, where stray beams of light peeked through gaps in the stone. She could see the outline of crimson leaves and a patch of frost-colored sky. Eru knew what the elves did when it rained.

For two weeks they had been trapped in here. On their first day in prison, Thorin had been to some sort of diplomatic meeting with the king (which involved more cursing in Khuzdul, if the aftermath was anything to go by). Somehow he’d managed to botch things up so that they were forbidden from leaving Mirkwood forever, unless they promised Thranduil a share of treasure from the mountain. 

Which meant, if the stubbornness of dwarves was anything to go by, that the elves would be dragging their corpses out of the cells in a few decades. And despite what she’d thought earlier, sitting in the same cell for two weeks could get a bit boring. Another year and she would go insane.

Perhaps the elves would consider her a weak link of some sort and question her about their purposes in the forest. After all, she was both a human and a woman and would therefore be expected to have a weaker will and lesser intelligence. Neither applied to her, of course, but they didn’t know that. If she was questioned, perhaps she could convince the king to let them go. But that would depend on his intelligence and his motives for keeping them locked up in the first place.

“Holly.”

She blinked at the familiar voice and turned to see none other than Bilbo peering at her through the cell bars.

“Bilbo.” She glanced over at Dori. He was sleeping at the back of the cell. She turned back to the hobbit. “How did you get in here?”

His eyes flickered to the dungeon entrance. “I, ah, slipped past the guards.”

Holly let out a sigh of relief. He was  _ safe. _ “You’re planning on helping us escape, I hope?”

“Yes. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“You have a plan already?” She shifted onto her knees, resting a hand on one of the bars of the door.

“I  _ need _ a plan.” Bilbo’s eyes flickering to the entrance again. “And since you’re the cleverest person I know, I thought I might as well ask you about it.”

“I see. We’d need to find and obtain the keys to these cells, or figure out a way to pick the locks. And you would need to create some sort of distraction, so we don’t have to worry about the guards. You could put something in their food, maybe start a plague or something—”

“I’m not starting a plague.”

“Right. Elves don’t easily get sick anyway.” She thought for a moment. “Lighting a fire would be a suitable distraction. Check the wine cellar and see if they have any strong liquor. You could use that to spread the fire—”

“Holly.” Bilbo put his hand on hers, causing her to fall silent. “No disease, and no fire. We’re going for something something a little less harmful.”

It seemed the dwarves’ antagonism towards the elves had rubbed off on her. She sighed. “This would be easier I could see how the place is laid out. Not much use being clever if I’m stuck in here.”

“Well, that can hardly be helped. You know, I did hear one of the elves mention a feast tonight. That could be our distraction.”

Holly nodded. “Try to find out who’s going to be there. And see if you can find the keys to the cells.”

He took his hand away. Her skin tingled where he had made contact with it. “I’ll try to do that. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll be able to do this all without getting caught?” 

He nodded, and it became apparent to her how tired he looked. She took in the ashen pallor of his skin, the way his bangs drooped on his forehead. “You look terrible.”

Bilbo frowned. “Thank you?”

She grimaced inwardly.  _ Brilliant choice of words. _ “No, what I meant was, you don’t look well.”

He seemed taken aback at her concern. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired, is all. Don’t worry about me.”

As if she could help it. “All right. I’ll see you later, hopefully.” 

“See you.” He stood up.

She watched him step out of sight, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Hopefully it wouldn’t always be so nerve-wracking to talk to Bilbo.

Sharp footsteps halted outside the cell door. Holly looked up. The blond elf from before stared back with icy blue eyes.

“King Thranduil wishes to speak with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked ridiculously hard on the interaction between Holly and Thranduil, so I hope you all enjoy it! And something is going to happen at the end of the next chapter that you'll probably all be very angry about, so...have fun! As always, thanks for reading and I hope you liked this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think!


	15. The Episode of the Barrels

**Chapter 15: The Episode of the Barrels**

 

King Thranduil had a poised, calculating air about him, similar to that of a serpent. Holly recognized his facial features—he had to be related to the blond elf from earlier. 

The throne room couldn’t really be called that, as it was more of a platform suspended in a large open area of the fortress. Though his realm had its fair share of waterfalls and sunlight, it was darker and gloomier than Rivendell. The king’s throne was on a raised dais, and given its height she had to wonder if he was compensating for something.

“I trust my guards have treated you well?” Thranduil inclined his head. “I understand human women can be rather...fragile.”

He was making assumptions, just as she expected. “Well, what they’re feeding me is edible. I think I’ll live.”

Thranduil tilted his head slightly, considering her. “A human woman traveling with a band of dwarves,” he said as though thinking aloud. “I’ll admit, I’ve seen stranger arrangements in my life. But tell me, what purpose do you serve on their little dragon-slaying quest?”

So he had already guessed what the dwarves were after. That wasn’t too surprising, but she had yet to fully gauge why he had imprisoned them, and why she was being interrogated at all.

When she didn’t respond, Thranduil gave a small smirk and said, “There’s no need to be ashamed if they just brought you along for...entertainment. I know the base nature of dwarves.”

Holly felt a small spark of irritation at the implication, though she tried not to let it show as she said, “Did you just bring me here to patronize me?”

“No,” Thranduil said, the humor gone from his face. He stood up and stepped down to her level, beginning to pace back and forth across the dais. “No, I’m quite aware that you are far more dangerous than you appear.”

“Well, that’s setting a low bar. I don’t think I look very dangerous at all.” Perhaps he was referencing the dark magic, something only elves and wizards were able to sense. If that was the case, she could try to prod him for his own perspective on what had happened to her.

He considered her, a poised snake ready to strike. “You’d be surprised how often a façade turns out to be nothing more than a reflection of the self.”

“I think you just contradicted yourself.”

Thranduil shook his head. “You may be dangerous, but I know what it looks like when someone has been burned. I can see how fragile you are.”

Now he was talking in circles, and although she was impatient for him to get to the point, a part of her wanted to play along. It had been a while since she’d participated in this kind of mental chess. “Of course you would know what being burned looks like. You have been too—though in the more literal sense.”

He said nothing, but his intense gaze prompted her to continue.

“You favor your right side when you sit, but you walk normally, suggesting an injury in your upper torso. Limited movement in your arm indicates restriction due to severe burn scars. I would say damage to the tendons or muscles in your shoulder, but that sort of injury likely would have killed you instead. Therefore, I conclude that you suffered burns to the left side of your upper body.”

Thranduil stood still as he considered her words, a statuesque pillar of analysis in the center of the room. “Very clever. And you are right. I was burned.”

“Of course I’m right. Though what could have caused such severe damage to you, I’m not entirely sure,” she said, trying to hone in on a specific weakness.

“You want to know how I got these scars?” Without warning, Thranduil grimaced as the left side of his face warped and twisted. In seconds smooth skin was replaced with a trail of scarred muscle that disappeared under his collar and a blank, unseeing eye—years of pain, hidden behind a mask. “Are you truly so ignorant of what brought this upon me?” The elf’s voice became lower, more dangerous, as he advanced toward her. He stopped inches away, so Holly had to lean her head up to meet his eyes. “ _ Dragon fire _ .”

She’d touched a nerve. Excellent. 

He stepped back, the smooth mask and clear skin asserting itself once again. She was almost impressed with the iron grip he had on his emotions. 

“But I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“I expect most people would know about the cause and effect relationship between fire and burns,” Holly said. 

The elf’s eyes glinted. “Do not play games with me. I know the wrath of a dragon better than most.” Now Thranduil was staring at her with a disconcerting intensity that went beyond cold contempt. “I have seen dragon fire, and I have felt it on my own flesh. Now, tell me.” It was almost poetic, the way he had gained his composure, disinterest taking over his features once more. “Who is it that would send a  _ dragon _ into my realm? Who are you working for?”

Holly surprised herself with a bark of laughter. “I’ve been called many things, elf, but this is the first time I’ve been mistaken for a gigantic fire-breathing beast.”

“Are you truly so blind to the power you hold, and what is tied to it? My guards have sensed it, and now that you stand before me I see it too—you  _ reek _ of dark magic.”

Her sarcastic reply died on her tongue as Holly realized what he was implying. Before, she had assumed that the soul connected to her own was that of a human. But if what Thranduil said was true…

Holly swallowed hard, feeling as though she'd been punched in the stomach. There was a dragon living in the mountain mere miles from where she’d grown up. It was all too likely that her soul was connected to Smaug’s.

“I will only ask you once more. Who is it that would dare send such a creature as you into my realm?”

The anger in his eyes was dangerous. She had to convince him of her innocence before he decided to act on his rage. 

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. This happened to me when I was a child, and I've been seeking the person responsible. That is why I've been traveling with Thorin’s Company.”

“So you are a liar as well. I should have expected as much.”

Holly sighed in irritation. “So you can identify the very essence of my soul, but you can't see when I'm telling the truth?”

Thranduil stared at her, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “It was foolish of me to allow you into my realm in the first place. And you are far too dangerous for me to let you to stay here.”

Holly stared back at him, her mouth dry.

“You have twelve hours to answer my question.” Thranduil addressed the guard waiting at the entrance. “Take her to the vault.”

“I'm telling you the truth, I swear.” Holly fought to keep her voice at a normal level. “If you let me go now, I'll be on my way. I won't come back. My condition isn’t a danger to you.”

He only stared at her coolly as the guard took her arm and pulled her towards the entrance. There was no use in struggling, so Holly let the guard lead her as she sank into deep thought. 

It couldn’t be a coincidence that she had joined a group of dwarves whose very purpose was to slay that dragon. It was entirely possible that Gandalf had known this the entire time.  

Holly realized they had walked past the entrance to the dungeons. “Where are you taking me?” she asked the guard. Thranduil had mentioned something about a vault, but she had no idea what that meant.

The guard remained stony-faced and silent, and she had no choice but to grudgingly follow along as he led her down a different staircase, into a hallway that was only dimly lit by torches.

At the end of the hall was a small, windowless cell. Holly took one look at the confined space and shook her head. “I’m not going in there.”

In response, the guard gave her a hard shove, forcing her inside. Holly stumbled and braced her hands against the wall to regain her balance. Behind her, the thick stone door swung shut, followed by the slide of a bolt and the click of a lock.

The cell was pitch black. Holly walked back to the door and felt along the edges. The door was completely flush against the walls on all four sides. There was no space for air to pass through.

Twelve hours, Thranduil had said.

She took a few steps back, slowly shaking her head. Evidently he was paranoid enough to leave her to die instead of taking any chances with her condition.

“ _ Dammit! _ ” Holly slammed her fists against the door. She couldn’t have come so far just to perish in the dark. If she was going to die this young she would at least liked to have a bit more excitement to it.

She circled the room and felt along the floors, but all she encountered was smooth, cold stone. There wasn’t even a keyhole in the door.

A light tapping noise at the entrance made her turn.

“Holly? Are you all right?”

Nearly dizzy with relief, she rushed over to the door. “Bilbo!”

“Shh. The guard left the hallway, but I don’t know if he’s going to come back.”

“How did you know I was in here?”

“I saw him take you past the entrance to the dungeons and managed to follow you here.”

Thankfully he hadn’t heard the conversation she’d had with Thranduil—she had no idea how she would explain that to him.

“Look, I found where the guards keep the keys,” Bilbo said. “And I have a plan on how to get you all out.”

Holly smiled. “Good. But you have to hurry. I have a limited amount of air in here.”

“I’m going to try to take the keys tonight. Don’t worry, I’m going to get you out of there.”

Holly pressed her fingertips against the doorframe, wishing she could hug him again, even though he didn't seem to need comforting at the moment. “All right. Good luck.”

Bilbo walked away from the cell so quietly she could barely hear his footsteps. Even with his remarkable stealth, she wasn’t certain how he had managed to hide from the guards for so long.

Holly sat down against the wall. She had to stay calm and conserve the air she had. She pressed her head against her knees and sighed. Another piece of the puzzle had clicked into place, and left her feeling even more disturbed.

The man in her dreams was the final piece. She was certain the full truth would not be pleasant. But she had come so close to the end, and there seemed little purpose in turning back now.

Besides, Holly was never one to back down from a challenge.

\---

The clang of metal broke her from a hazy trance. Holly blinked against the sudden brightness of the torchlight as the door opened. Bilbo’s form was silhouetted for a moment in the sudden light.

Holly tried to stand up and stumbled as a sudden dizziness overwhelmed her. She put one hand against the wall as white sparks filled her vision.

The next thing she knew was Bilbo’s hands on her arm, helping to keep her steady. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, taking deep breaths. With each one her senses grew clearer. “I’m fine. Lucky you came when you did.” If he had come an hour later, she might not have woken up.

“I’m sorry it took so long. I had to wait for the guards to fall asleep before I could take the keys.” He put one hand on her shoulder. “Can you walk?”

Holly leaned into his touch for a moment, then realized she was being ridiculous and stood up straight. “Yes, I’m fine now. I just needed a minute.” She paused as she looked into his eyes and saw that he was staring at her with genuine concern. Their close proximity seemed to deprive her of air all over again.

She felt a sudden recklessness overtake her. There was no point in putting things off any longer. Her words came out in a jumble as she said, “Bilbo, I...there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Is it important? We have to go get the others out before someone realizes the keys are missing.”

“Oh, I—no. We can—later.” She gestured vaguely as her courage evaporated. Holly tried to compose herself, embarrassed that she’d lost the ability to communicate in complete sentences. “We’ll talk later.”

“Right.” Bilbo nodded and gestured for her to follow him out of the cell. “Stay close to me.”

They crept out of the hallway and through the fortress. Fortunately, the halls were completely empty. In the upper levels, however, the sounds of the feast Bilbo mentioned echoed against the stone walls.

When they reached the dungeons, the first thing they heard was Ori’s voice, sounding forlorn as he said, “We’re never going to reach the mountain, are we?” 

“Not stuck in here, you’re not.” Bilbo stepped into view, holding the ring of keys.

The dwarves cried out in joy and surprise and Bilbo hissed for them to be quiet. “Shh! The guards are nearby.” He hurried from door to door and began unlocking each cell.

Thorin was the first to join her by the exit of the dungeons. He walked with such grim determination that for a moment she thought he was angry with her, until he said, “Are you all right? Why didn’t the guards bring you back here?”

“I’m fine,” Holly said, surprised by his concern. “I wasn’t answering Thranduil’s questions the way he wanted, so he decided to lock me up by myself.” 

She couldn’t go into more detail than that. Saying that she had almost been suffocated to death would prompt an explanation, which would force her to admit that she was carrying the soul of the very dragon that had destroyed his home. If she told him, what little trust had developed between them would be shattered.

“You didn’t tell him anything, then?” Thorin asked.

“Of course not.”

“Good.” He turned to signal to the others to join them by the entrance.

As Óin and Glóin joined their group, she remembered the locket in her coat pocket and stepped forward. Holly bit her lip, faltering. What she needed was a list of conversation starters.  _ The weather is nice today, isn’t it? I believe I have an object of sentimental value that belongs to you and I would like to return it. _

_ Oh, damn it all.  _ She withdrew the locket and thrust it in Glóin’s general direction. “Here. I found this in the woods. I believe it is yours.”

Glóin’s eyes widened and he took the locket. “Thank Mahal! I thought those elvish bastards had taken it.” He smiled, eyes shining a bit (though Holly pretended not to see). “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a polite nod. As she struggled to think of something else to say, Bilbo came back with the rest of the Company and signaled for them to start walking.

They left the dungeons without incident, though the air was drawn taut with tension. This would be their only opportunity to escape.

“This way, lads.” Dwalin headed for a staircase leading to the upper halls of Mirkwood.

“No, not that way.” Bilbo pointed to a different staircase leading to the lower halls. “We need to go down here. Follow me.”

“You’re supposed to be leading us out, not further in!”

“No, this is brilliant,” Holly said. “They’ll be expecting us to try and force our way out through the upper levels, since that’s the way we came in. Bilbo knows what he’s doing.”

“Yes, I do.” Bilbo gave her a grateful smile. “Just follow me.”

And they did, though with a few mutters and grumbles. After a few minutes, they entered a wine cellar. They crept past a few guards who were clearly intoxicated, snoring with their heads lolling on a wooden table. They stopped in front of a stack of barrels between two wine racks. “Everyone, climb into the barrels, quickly!” Bilbo said, a tinge of anxiety creeping into his voice.

“Are you mad? They’ll find us!” Dwalin said. The rest of the dwarves murmured, sharing his sentiment.

“No, no, they won’t, I promise you! Please, you  _ must _ trust me!” Bilbo shot a beseeching look at Thorin.

Everyone turned at the sound of shouting from upstairs—the elves had discovered their absence. That seemed to make up Thorin’s mind. 

“Do as he says.” 

They had no choice but to comply, and soon everyone but Bilbo was climbing into a barrel.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Holly asked Bilbo once they all situated themselves.

He gave her a reproachful glare. “No, I’m not forgetting anything. I’ve planned this out very carefully. Just trust me.”

“I do,” she replied, holding his gaze. “I do trust you.”

He looked at her for a moment—simply looked at her. 

A second later, he turned away as Bofur said, “What do we do now?”

“Uh, right.” Bilbo walked over to a wooden lever near the barrels. “Hold your breath.”

“What?”

The floor beneath the barrels began to tilt as he heaved the lever, and they tumbled down into the opening below.

Holly flinched as she plunged into the icy water, but her barrel righted itself soon enough, and she was able to get her bearings. They had landed in a river cutting through a high, narrow cavern. If she had to guess, the elves used it to transport barrels down the Forest River.

Moments later, Bilbo fell into the cavern as well with a yell and a splash. Nori pulled him out of the water by his coat and Bilbo grabbed the rim of the barrel to keep himself afloat.

“Well done, Master Baggins.” Thorin nodded to Bilbo from the front of the group. He gave a waterlogged half-wave in lieu of a reply.

“Not a word,” he said to Holly, who was smirking at him.

“I was right, though, wasn’t I?” she said, biting back a grin. It seemed as though they would actually be able to escape. “You can swim, right?”

“Well, uh, not reall—”

“Hold on!” Thorin yelled from the front of the group. The cavern opened up into sunlight and the barrels plummeted down a steep waterfall, throwing up a fine mist upon impact.

The current picked up, pulling them down the river at a swift pace. Not being able to swim in these conditions could prove to be lethal. Holly shot a nervous glance at Bilbo, who seemed fine, albeit soaked.

The commotion from earlier had followed them to the entrance of the cavern. There was a cluster of shouting, followed by the resonating call of a horn. She heard Nori curse. There was a possibility the elves would recapture them before they could even leave Mirkwood. Holly remembered the darkness of the cell and gripped the rim of her barrel tighter.

Sure enough, they were approaching an outpost built on the river, where a group of elves were waiting. As they drew closer, one of the elves pulled a lever, closing a heavy metal sluice gate and blocking their path.

The barrels crashed to a halt, leaving them once again at the mercy of the elves.

Holly would always remember the subsequent moment as one of the most ironic events of their journey. One of the elves froze, eyes fading to blankness as a jagged arrow materialized in the center of his back. Then all erupted into chaos as hunched figures flooded the riverbanks, distracting the elves. They’d been saved by orcs, at least for the moment.

They were still vulnerable, though, being trapped in the river and weaponless. An orc lunged for Holly, greasy nails aimed at her throat, and Bilbo cut it down with his sword, being the only one able to keep his weapon.

She flinched as a figure passed over her head, but it was only Kíli, who had climbed out of his barrel. He sprinted up the stairs of the gate, heading for the lever controlling the sluice.

And all Holly could do was watch as he reached the lever—he was  _ so close _ —and stiffened in pain and shock, muscles grinding to a halt as an arrow pierced his thigh.

His strangled gasp was the only thing that broke the ringing silence that stretched itself over the gate. And in the next instant, he fell to the ground, crying out in agony.

“Kíli!” Fíli said at almost the same moment, as though he could feel his brother’s pain.

Holly was sure the orcs would have killed him if elvish reinforcements hadn’t arrived, driving the orcs back from the gate. With a strained groan, Kíli managed to pull the lever and drag himself off the side of the platform. The shaft of the arrow snapped as he slipped back into his barrel. 

The river flowed into another waterfall, which tossed the barrels into tumultuous water. More orcs were posted on the river banks, firing arrows into the chaotic river in hopes of striking one of them. 

As far as Holly could tell, no one else was hit. It was when they hit the rapids that things went wrong. Mist boiled over their heads and the current swirled and tossed the barrels like leaves in a storm. It was in the midst of such chaos that the river truly became dangerous.

“Bilbo!” one of the dwarves cried out—Holly didn’t know which one and didn’t care as she whipped around, heart pounding. Nori was reaching out for Bilbo as his grip slipped from the barrel. But his fingers closed around empty air and Bilbo was engulfed by the current.

Holly didn’t think. In fact, she didn’t realize what she was doing until she had pushed herself out of her barrel and into the river. Cold water swelled over her body, pushing her under. She surfaced with a gasp, whipping her head around in search of him. He couldn’t have gone far, but all she could see at the moment was snowy, misty spray. Holly didn’t catch the dead orc falling at her until its body slammed into her own, forcing her back underwater. It was harder to swim back to the surface this time—her coat was weighing her down. Holly didn’t give it a second thought. She needed to get to Bilbo.

Farther downstream, a flash of red caught her eye, and she swam toward it with heavy limbs. After what seemed like hours she managed to get a hold of Bilbo’s coat. A surge of energy shot through her as she wrapped her arms around him and kicked her feet, praying she would be able to keep both of them afloat.

Water splashed against her face and she choked on some of it. She struggled to adjust her grip and keep Bilbo’s head above the water, but her arms didn’t respond the way she wanted them to. Her vision blurring, or perhaps it was just the water in her eyes.

Someone lifted him out of her grip—one of the dwarves, she hoped—and she relaxed and loosened her grip.

That happened to be a mistake. 

Holly had no strength left to resist as the river pulled her under, closing around her body like a fist. Panic jolted through her muddled mind and she struggled to get back to the surface. She tried to breathe, but only water entered her lungs. Fighting against a buzzing panic, she made another attempt to surface. She was inches from taking another breath of air when a wave pushed more water down her throat and she sank beneath the surface again.

A painful burning sensation enveloped her chest. She tried to move her arms again but they wouldn’t respond. 

Thick, wooly nothingness settled over her mind. The water in her chest  _ hurt _ . Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt if she stopped struggling. 

Holly stopped.

_ How ironic that I’m going the same way my da did. _ The thought floated to the front of her mind before the river swept it away along with everything else.

\---

The next breath she took nearly shocked her—the freshness and lightness of air compared to the heavy liquid that had filled her lungs was almost painful. She choked as someone applied a heavy, staccato pressure to her chest and turned her head to the side so she could cough up more water. 

Blinking away droplets, she could see the sun overhead, partially obscured by a figure leaning over her. 

“Holly, are you all right? Please say something.”

_ Bilbo. _ His voice was shaking. She coughed some more, finally clearing her airways enough for her to breathe. She sucked in a few lungfuls of air and pushed herself up with unsteady arms.

Gentle fingers brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. Bilbo gave a relieved, trembling laugh. “You had me worried for a moment.”

The same impulsiveness that had possessed her in Mirkwood reappeared. Holly grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him into a kiss. 

Too soon, she had to break away so she could cough more water out of her lungs. When she turned back, Bilbo's cheeks were flushed, but he was frowning. 

"Bilbo?" she said, her voice coming out in a croak. 

"I...no. I'm sorry, I just—no. I can’t." He didn’t even meet her eyes. 

Holly could only watch as he stood up and walked away. 

The nagging voice in the back of her head chuckled. 

_ I told you so. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so...that happened. I'll fix it eventually, promise :)  
> As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think, it helps me out a lot!


	16. The Resident Bargeman

**Chapter 16: The Resident Bargeman**

 

The river had carried the group out of Mirkwood at a swift pace, and now it slowed to a crawl near a rocky bank. The water was no longer turbulent and foamy, but calm and level. After weeks of dim light, the sun seemed especially bright. The fall air felt crisp, but not cold.

All of this seemed rather antagonistic to Holly, a mocking contrast to the hurricane of emotions inside her.

What had happened was her own fault, of course. It was her fault that she’d made herself so vulnerable. She’d let baseless fantasies cloud her judgement, and now she was paying for it.

It was her fault that Bilbo would never want anything more than friendship. And from the looks of it, she’d lost that as well.

“Holly, I’m so sorry,” Nori said from beside her. She started. Had he been there the whole time?

“You have no reason to apologize.” She didn’t trust herself to say any more than that.

“Well, I was the one that suggested you talk to him in the first place. I just didn’t realize that you would—”

“Stop.” Her voice came out hoarse and ragged. “I can’t talk about it right now, all right?”

“Right. Sorry.” Nori placed a comforting hand on her back.

Holly was about to tell him to stop apologizing, but the harsh  _ thwack _ of an arrow piercing wood caught her attention.

She saw Dwalin stumbling back, a large stick in hand. An arrow had been driven clean through the wood. He glared at an imposing figure standing higher up on the bank. The sun was shining at an angle that threw shadow over whoever it was, but the nocked bow in his hands was visible.

“Do it again, and you’re dead,” the figure said.

Holly stood, recognizing the voice. “Bard.”

The man did a double take. “Holly?” He lowered his bow. “What are you...We all thought you were dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Thorin stepped forward. “You know him?”

“We grew up in the same town.”

“So you must be from Laketown,” Balin said to Bard with a cautious smile. He nodded at the wooden barge docked a few yards down the river. “That barge over there, would it be available for hire, by any chance?”

The man scrutinized the dwarves. “Help me move the barrels into the barge. Then we will talk.”

The dwarves began to heave the barrels out of the water and up the bank. Holly made to follow, but she paused as Thorin and Balin approached her.

“You are familiar with this man, yes? Can he be trusted?” Thorin asked in a low voice.

“He values his morals and his people above all else. Don’t infringe on that, and he’ll keep his word,” she said. Bard had always been the humanitarian of Laketown, going out of his way to help the less privileged residents in any way he could. “But if you’re going to strike a deal with him, it wouldn’t hurt to mention money.” Everyone in Laketown would at least listen to any deal if it meant getting paid.

The two dwarves nodded and Thorin walked away to help with moving the barrels. Holly made to follow him but Balin touched her arm, making her pause.

“Are you sure you’re all right, lass?”

She hoped he was talking about the fact that she had almost drowned. “I’m—” It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t feel fine, though. She felt raw.

Holly tried her best not to think about this as she watched the dwarves push the barrels up the slope and into the barge. Moping wouldn’t help anyone.

Bard hauled the last barrel onto the boat and turned to the dwarves. “You say you want to use my barge. What makes you think I will help you?” 

“Those boots have seen better days,” Balin said. “As has that coat. No doubt you have some hungry mouths to feed. How many bairns?”

“A boy and two girls.”

“And your wife, I’d imagine she’s a beauty.”

“Aye. She was.”

Balin faltered for a moment. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, enough with the niceties!” Dwalin said. 

“What’s your hurry?” Bard scrutinized him.

“What’s it to you?” 

Holly sighed.  _ Perfectly clever. Make us look even more suspicious. _

“I would like to know who you are and what you are doing in these lands,” Bard said, stepping forward.

“We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills,” Balin replied. 

“Simple merchants, you say?” Bard raised an eyebrow, eyes flickering to Holly.

“Obviously I couldn’t traverse the wilds by myself. They offered me protection, and I accepted,” she said.

“We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?” Thorin asked, finally getting to the point.

Bard’s gaze drifted to the nicks and scrapes the barrels had sustained from the orcs’ arrows. “I know where these barrels came from. I don’t know what business you had with the elves, but I don’t think it ended well. No one enters Laketown but by leave of the Master. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of—”

“Yes, I’m sure we get the point by now.” Holly took a step forward. “I know we won’t legally be able to get into Laketown, and I know that you would be able to smuggle us in there. You can either accept our money and get us into town or stop wasting our time and move on.”

Everyone averted their eyes except Bard, who raised his eyebrows. “If you’re willing to pay, then I’ll see what I can do.” 

The Company exchanged glances. The bargeman didn’t seem to be offended at all by Holly’s words. Though perhaps it wasn’t as much of a surprise to him.

After all, it would appear to him as though nothing had changed.

\---

The temperature dropped once the barge moved onto the lake, and a thick fog hung in the air, causing the chill to cling to their skin. 

Holly pulled her coat tighter around her body, trying to ward off the cold. She’d never planned on passing through Laketown, but Gandalf’s deception had forced her onto this course. In all honesty, she’d rather be headed for an evil fortress than her old home—the town and its people held too many unpleasant memories to be considered home anymore. 

The entire journey had been a mistake. Growing up in a town full of swindling liars should have taught her better. She should have known not to put her trust in a wizard and her heart with a group of dwarves that would all be dead within the week. Despite their determination, they could not hope to survive a battle against a dragon.

“I have been bled dry by this adventure,” Glóin said from across the barge, and Holly couldn’t help but agree. “And what have I seen for my investment? Naught but misery and grief and...” He trailed off.

Holly turned around as the barge fell silent. The fog had parted, and the dwarves stood, staring at the looming figure in the distance. The Lonely Mountain towered above them, snow-capped peaks tinged rose and gold against the sunlight. 

Hope was shining on each of the dwarves’ faces. And for a moment, Holly felt her heart lift a little at the sight. She felt almost happy for them.

Then she looked away, shoving her hands in her pockets. She’d seen that mountain every day while living in Laketown. It was nothing new to her.

“Bless my beard,” Glóin said. “Take it. Take all of it.” He heaped several coins into the stack they had collected.

The moment was broken as Bard strode forward, palm outstretched. “The money, give it to me, quick.”

“We will pay you when we get our provisions, and not before.” Thorin shot a warning look at the man.

“If you value your freedom, you’ll do as I say. There are guards up ahead.”

Sure enough, the vague silhouette of buildings and the sound of voices began to filter through the fog.

Thorin shoved the money at Bard, who pocketed it with practiced hands. “Get in the barrels.” The dwarves broke out in protest, having spent enough time in the barrels already. “Do it! How else do you expect to get into Laketown without being seen?”

They crammed themselves back into the wooden containers and fell silent. Holly shook her head when Bard gestured for her to do so as well.

“Absolutely not. I’m a citizen of the town—there’s no reason for me to sneak in.” Especially not in such an undignified manner.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He tied the barge to the entrance dock and stepped on, heading for one of the fishermen who had tied his boat to the opposite side. 

Bard handed a stack of coins to the man, saying something that she couldn’t hear and gesturing to the barrels. Some of the fishermen of the town distributed their catches behind the master’s back, which was illegal, but cheaper. It was the only reliable way he would be able to smuggle the dwarves in.

Moments later, a cacophony of wet smacking filled the air as the fisherman and Bard filled the barrels with fish, much to the dismay of the dwarves. Holly felt doubly glad that she’d chosen to stay out in the open.

“I never want to see another fish in my life,” came Bombur’s muffled voice once all the barrels had been filled.

Bard kicked one of the barrels as the barge began moving. “Quiet. We’re approaching the gate.”

They came to a halt as a ginger man stood up from his desk. “Halt! Goods inspection. Papers, please.” Bard handed him a slip of paper. “Oh, it’s you, Bard.”

“Hello, Percy.”

“And who’s this?” Percy glanced over at Holly.

“You remember Holly Galafin, right?” Bard patted her on the shoulder in a faux-friendly sort of way that made her scowl. 

“Oh.” Percy’s eyebrows drew together in a manner that suggested he did remember her. “Well...” He went back to his desk and stamped the papers. “It appears everything is in order. You’re free to go.”

“Not. So. Fast.” Another man sauntered forward and snatched the papers out of Percy’s hand. “Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm,” he read. “Only, they’re not empty, are they, Bard?” He tossed the papers away and stepped forward, flanked by a couple of guards. “If I read correctly, you’re licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman.”

“That’s none of your business,” Bard replied, mouth set in a straight line.

“Wrong.” The man smirked. “It’s the Master’s business, which makes it my business.”

“Oh, come on, Alfrid, have a heart. People need to eat,” Bard said, a pleading note entering his voice.

“And these fish are illegal,” Alfrid said as if he hadn’t heard him. He gestured to the guards. “Empty the barrels over the side.” He turned to Holly, raising his unibrow. “You’re bringing in girls too, now?”

Holly wasn’t angry. She only felt an icy, vindictive sneer creep onto her face as she said, “Oh, is that illegal too, now? Perhaps you should consult the Master about it. You’re obviously quite  _ close _ to him, going by the state of your knees.” She brushed past him, and didn’t look back as she left the docks. 

This was who she was. How could she have ever believed that someone could change that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	17. A Retrospection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: there's a brief description of suicide by drowning in this chapter.

**Chapter 17: A Retrospection**

 

As soon as she opened the door, a cloud of dust filtered into the cold air. Holly opened it further, letting sunlight filter through the kitchen of her old home. 

It was empty, and silent as death.

She stepped inside, and the door swung shut of its own accord. The house had been built on top of a bakery and the floor was on a slight angle, making everything tilt. 

Her mother’s coat and hat hung limp on one of the pegs next to the door. They were the only ones there.  _ Perhaps… _

Holly walked over to her parents’ bedroom, dust scurrying from her footsteps. When she reached the door, she paused, hand inches away from the doorknob. She swallowed hard, listening. She could hear faint breathing on the other side.

But when Holly pushed it open, the room was dark, cold, and empty. A cavernous silence echoed throughout the house and made her ears ring. She shut the door, turning away from the cloying odor of sickness. It was clear what had happened here. Holly leaned her pounding head against the wood, breathing in the stale air. 

Everyone was gone.

The front door creaked. She spun around in time to see it slam shut. Heart pounding, she rushed across the room and wrenched open the door. There was no one there. Holly felt a frown tug at the corners of her mouth. 

A prickling sensation started at the base of her neck, and she wondered if she was being watched. 

\---

Thorin could smell smoke. Screams of pain flooded the air, the sound wretched, but the worst of it was the silence that followed—the screaming snapped up in an instant by fire and death. A deafening roar sounded, burnt-red scales glinting as the dragon lunged—

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The sound of Bilbo’s voice dragged him out of the memory. Thorin blinked as the present reasserted itself. He was in Bard’s house in Laketown, not back in Erebor watching his people die. But his eyes remained fixed on the roof of one of the buildings, where a four-pronged ballista was perched.

“He has seen a ghost.” Balin moved beside them, his mouth set in a grim line. “The last time we saw such a weapon…” He paused to collect himself. “A city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came—the day that Smaug destroyed Dale. Girion, the lord of the city, rallied his bowmen to fire upon the beast. But a dragon’s hide is tough—tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow, fired from a windlance, could have pierced the dragon’s hide, and few of those were ever made. His store was running low when Girion made his last stand.”

Thorin stared hard at the windlance until its shape blurred in his vision. Girion had warned his grandfather against the dangers of Erebor’s wealth, and the risks of evoking a dragon’s wrath. But Thror, blinded by greed and hounded by paranoia, hadn’t listened. Girion’s windlance had been their only hope at stopping the dragon.

“Had the aim of men been true that day, much would have been different,” he said.  _ Everything _ would have been different.

The floorboards creaked as Bard approached their small group. “You speak as if you were there.”

“All dwarves know the tale,” Thorin replied, turning away from the window.

“Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon,” Bain, Bard’s son, said. “He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast.”

Dwalin let out a dry laugh. “That’s a fairy story, lad. Nothing more.”

Thorin fixed Bard with a businesslike stare and changed the subject. “You took our money. Where are the weapons?”

“Wait here,” was all Bard said before he turned on his heel and walked out to retrieve their supplies.

Thorin beckoned to Fíli and Kíli once the man was gone. He didn’t need him intruding on any more of their conversations. “Tomorrow begins the last days of autumn.” 

“Durin’s Day falls the morn after next,” Balin said. “We must reach the mountain before then.”

“And if we do not?” Kíli turned to his uncle, eyes full of doubt. “If we fail to find the hidden door before that time?”

“Then this quest has been for nothing,” Fíli replied grimly, glancing at his uncle.

Thorin set his mouth in a flat line. For the Company, all their months of traveling and fighting and  _ hoping _ would be for nothing. And for Thorin, the years he had spent searching for this opportunity, the battle of Azanulbizar, his grandfather and his brother’s death—they would all mean nothing.

And Thorin would not allow that to happen.

Bard walked back into the room and deposited a long, dripping package on the table. They gathered around as he unwrapped it, then the room fell silent as they stared at its contents. 

“Is this a joke?” Bofur said. 

Thorin picked up a strange hooked object. “What is this?”

“A pike-hook, made from an old harpoon,” Bard replied, eyebrows drawing together as the dwarves let out grumbles of discontent.

“And this?” Kíli hefted a grimy, hammer-like item.

“A crowbill, we call it, fashioned from an old smithy’s hammer.” Bard sounded almost defensive. “It’s heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none.”

“We paid you for  _ weapons _ ,” Glóin said. “Iron-forged swords and axes!”

“Might as well give us fishing rods as well.” Bombur crossed his arms.

Bard scowled. “You won’t find better outside the city armory. All iron-forged weapons are held there under lock and key.” 

Dwalin and Thorin exchanged a glance. Now there was another option.

“Thorin,” Balin said, evidently sensing the plan growing in his mind. “Why not take what’s been offered and go? I’ve made do with less, and so have you. I say we leave now.”

That was an equally viable option. The one thing they could not afford to lose was time, and breaking into the armory would deprive them of that resource.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Bard said, causing Dwalin to turn with a snarl.

“What did you say?”

“There are spies watching this house and probably every dock and wharf in the town. You must wait till nightfall.”

Dwalin backed down at this, as did the others. It appeared their only option was to wait until sunset, which would arrive in an hour or so. Though that would leave them with inadequate weapons and less time. As the dwarves began to disperse around the house, Bard gave Thorin an indiscernible look before striding out the door.

Minutes later, it opened again and Holly walked in. She stood in the doorway, her posture rigid as her eyes swept across the room.

“I came to wish you all luck,” she said, speaking in a quick, low voice. “Although luck is a useless and unreliable concept, I thought it better than nothing. I understand you’ll be leaving for the mountain soon, so…” She stopped and swallowed. “Goodbye.”

And before any of them could reply, she stepped outside and closed the door.

The dwarves exchanged uneasy glances as conversation slowly returned to the room. Thorin saw Bilbo cast a frown at the door before turning away.

Balin moved next to him and said, “She’s familiar with the town. She could help us get to the armory unseen.”

After her abrupt departure, Thorin wasn’t certain she would be willing to help them. But at the moment, the quest was his top priority, and he needed every advantage he could take to reach the mountain in time. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Steeling himself for whatever might come next, Thorin crossed the room and pushed open the door.

\---

Holly pushed past a group of fishermen, blinking hard. She didn’t know where she would stay to wait for Gandalf, but for the moment it felt necessary to simply  _ go _ . She’d almost bypassed saying goodbye to the Company altogether, but it felt appropriate after all the time they had spent together. It was, after all, her last chance to see them.

Something hot and wet ran down her cheek. Holly reached up to wipe it away and was horrified to discover it was a teardrop.

_ Not here, dammit. _ She ducked her head as she passed a peddler talking with a couple of young men.

Try as she might, she couldn’t stop another tear, and more after that, as they ran down her cheeks. She had met people who were able to cry on command, but it didn’t appear possible to do the opposite.

Holly slipped into an alleyway, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to regulate her breathing. The pain that had appeared in her chest was starting to ache immensely, and for a moment she thought there was still water in her lungs.

“Holly.”

She gasped and turned around as someone put a hand on her shoulder. Thorin took his hand away, eyes widening as he took in her tear-stained face and equally widened eyes. 

Hot shame washed over her. She had managed to keep up her appearance of strength for months while she had traveled with the Company. She should have been able to do it for a bit longer. 

Holly scrubbed at her eyes to dry them. There was no reason for Thorin to concern himself with her wellbeing. They would part ways soon enough, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her slowing them down anymore. “What is it?”

“I need your help,” Thorin said, his voice absent of its usual gruffness.

“Of course.” Holly relaxed a little. He had followed her out of need, not concern—a much more realistic motive. 

“We need to get to the armory and enter it without being seen. Can you tell me how to do that?”

“I’ll show you,” she replied, her voice regaining some of its steadiness. She didn’t trust the dwarves on their own in a place like Laketown. They’d get lost or pickpocketed, or both, within fifteen minutes. “Shops close in half an hour. By then, the streets will be mostly empty, and you’ll have an easier time moving through.”

Holly made to leave the alleyway, but Thorin put a hand up, stopping her.

“I know it’s not my place to interfere with your personal affairs,” Thorin said. “But I know you have grown close to a few members of the Company over the course of this journey. There is the possibility that some of us may not survive our encounter with the dragon, and I think you would regret it if you left some issues unresolved and never got the chance to make amends afterwards.”

"There is nothing to resolve," Holly replied, staring hard at the water across from the alleyway. "I made a mistake, and I take full responsibility.”

“And what mistake was that?”

She sighed, fists clenching inside her pockets. “When I was a child, the family across the street bought a chicken from one of the traders passing through town. Their youngest son seemed to think it was a pet. I used to watch him play with it, feed it scraps of food. I suppose it was fun for him, up until the day his father slaughtered it.”

Thorin crossed his arms. “Am I to assume my Company is the chicken in this analogy?”

“I admit it’s not the most graceful comparison. But my point is, that boy was foolish for caring so much in the first place. He should have known not to get attached to something that was going to be taken away from him.”

Silence fell over the alleyway. Holly stared into space until her eyes burned. 

"So you seek to protect yourself by shutting people out," Thorin said. 

"You do the same."

"No. I have people to lead, and I keep my emotions in check for their sake, not my own. You, however, have no one to lead but yourself. There is no reason for you to close yourself off from the world."

Holly finally looked up at him. "You don't know that. You don't—" She clamped her mouth shut as her voice began to waver. It wouldn't do to think about that now. No good would come from thinking about blank eyes and skin bloated with water and the stones in his pockets.

"You lost someone," Thorin said.

"It was a lesson I needed to learn."

"And are you happy now? Is this what you want?"

Holly stiffened at the question. Happy? The emotion was foreign to her.

Or it had been, until she'd met the Company and learned about flowers and heard bad jokes that still made her smile and realized what it meant to have friends. When had she been happy before she started caring?

Then again, when had she felt so much pain?

When she did not respond, Thorin said, "People will always hurt you—that is an unavoidable truth. But it is your choice whether or not to let those people bring you down. You are not as helpless as you think." He placed one hand on her shoulder, much more gently than when he had grabbed her earlier, then turned and left the alley.

Holly brushed the last of the tears from her face. Perhaps she wasn't helpless, but to say that she didn't feel that way would be a lie. 

She leaned against the wall and let out a long, slow breath. Losing Bilbo’s friendship had dragged up old memories that she’d tried to keep buried for years.

That, and this damned town had overwhelmed her with a sense of loneliness she hadn't felt since her father had drowned himself. The years after his death had cultivated a void within her, one she had leapt into when she’d fled from Laketown and her remaining family. 

But she didn’t have to let that void consume her. That would be unfair to the rest of her friends. Bilbo wasn't the only person in the Company that made her feel happy. 

A creaking noise startled Holly out of her thoughts. She scanned the alleyway, but there was no one there. 

Holly sighed and straightened up. Perhaps her uneasiness would abate once she left this cursed town. If only that was true for her conflicted feelings.

\---

The armory was situated in the center of Laketown, two blocks down from the Town Hall. Holly found her way easily—her father had been there often, being a guard, and she had always loved to visit him there. Even after many years, she still could have found the place in her sleep.

“How do we get in?” Ori asked once they reached the armory. The guards stored the weapons on the second floor of the small two-story building, and they often loitered on the first floor. 

She peered into the back window. The room was dark and silent. “The latch is broken. We should be able to get in here.”

“What if the latch has been fixed?”

Holly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “It wasn’t  _ that _ broken.” Nothing in Laketown got fixed unless you couldn’t use it anymore, and no one opened their windows anyway. She used her fingertips to pry it open, and the latch gave way with a rusty  _ click _ . “There we are. Stairs are on the left.” 

Thorin nodded at her, then turned to the others. “We need a group to stay outside and keep watch. The rest of you, come with me.” He climbed through the window.

Nori, Bofur, Bilbo, Fíli, and Kíli followed him in. Kíli was halfway through when he slipped, his knee banging hard against the frame of the window. He hissed in pain, losing his balance and gripping the window frame for support. Holly reached out to help steady him. “Are you all right?”

“M’fine.” He winced as Fíli helped him through the window.

Holly stepped back, frowning. She’d forgotten about the wound in his leg. She hoped it hadn’t been infected.

Down the street, a door slammed, making her jump. Her eyes darted around the empty alley. She couldn’t shake the uneasiness that had been dogging her ever since she visited her old house.

Dori touched her arm. “Is something wrong?”

“What?”

“You're acting tense.”

“This town is a cesspool of poverty and corruption. I’ve every reason to be  _ tense _ . Let’s just hope we can get out of here without getting caught.”

As if on cue, a loud crash sounded from within the building. Holly sighed as shouts and footsteps sounded a few blocks away. “Well, I don’t know what I expected.”

“Run!”

A group of guards cornered them before they could reach the end of the alley. Holly was reminded of their capture in Mirkwood as the guards rounded them up and escorted them to the Town Hall.

People trickled into the street, woken by the commotion. That was one of the many things Holly despised about Laketown—most of its citizens were too nosy for their own good, and those who weren’t were just as informed through the town’s advanced gossip network. By the time they reached the Town Hall, a large crowd had gathered there, gawking and whispering.

“What is the meaning of this?” A balding, rotund man stepped out of the Town Hall as the Company was shoved forward into the square, the guards forming a barrier behind them. 

“We caught ‘em stealing weapons, sire,” one of the guards replied.

The man puffed out his chest. “Ah. Enemies of the state, then.”

Holly frowned. Regis Blackwood had been the master of Laketown since she had been a child, and apparently no one had successfully taken action against him yet. He was quite the demagogue, and charismatic at that, but anyone with use of their eyes could see the web of corruption he’d woven throughout the town. New laws were written every time he saw fit to silence dissenters, and the guards were more than happy to enforce them with the incentive of a large salary.

Alfrid slunk out onto the porch of the Town Hall as well. “These are mercenaries if I’ve seen ‘em, sire.”

_ Yes, because mercenaries steal weapons instead of bringing their own. Idiots. _ Holly scowled. This was going to be a massive waste of time.

“Hold your tongue.” Dwalin stepped forward. “You do not know to whom you speak. This is no common criminal; this is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror!” He gestured to Thorin, who moved forward as well, holding himself with what could only be described as a kingly posture.

The master raised his eyebrows as Thorin spoke, his deep voice carrying across the crowd.

“We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland.” He walked into the center of the square, regarding the ramshackle buildings, the graying wood. “I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake—this was the center of all trade in the North!” 

The crowd added their agreement in loud voices, even though none of them had actually been alive to witness such prosperity.

“I would see those days return,” Thorin said. “I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!” The people let out another cheer at this.

Holly was impressed with the ease in which Thorin had turned the crowd in his favor. Perhaps they would be able to leave without further harassment.

The square fell silent as a clear voice rang out: “Death! That is what you will bring upon us.” Bard pushed his way through the crowd and glared at Thorin. “Dragon-fire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all.” Now the people were fixated on him, anxious whispers permeating the silence.

_ Well, isn’t this just one big orgy of charisma. _ Holly crossed her arms, interested as to who would win this debate. Bard had the people’s favor through friendship and familiarity, but Thorin had obviously taken note to what she had said about money—there were few other things could achieve a Laketown man’s support so quickly.

Thorin continued his speech, unfazed. “You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this: if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to build Esgaroth ten times over!” He finished in a triumphant cry amidst applause and cheers from his audience.

“Why should we take you for your word, eh?” Alfrid asked. “We know nothing about you. Who here can vouch for your character?”

A pointless exercise, really. Everyone able to provide such information would have personal bias, and therefore be unable to present an objective and accurate perspective.

Holly waited for one of the dwarves to speak up, but it was Bilbo who raised his hand.

“Me. I’ll vouch for him.”

Thorin turned around, his gaze losing some of its sharpness as he listened.

“Now, I have traveled far with these dwarves through great danger. All of them, especially their leader, are both honorable and loyal beyond any doubt. If Thorin Oakenshield gives his word, then he will keep it.”

_ That was nice of him to say. _ Holly stuffed her hands into her pockets. Even if he did lack any sort of supporting evidence.

She was stricken by what she saw when she turned her attention back to Thorin. His gaze was unspeakably soft as he looked at Bilbo.

“All of you! Listen to me! You must listen!” 

Everyone’s focus shifted back to Bard. Holly sighed. She had seen fleas with more commitment than these people. 

“Have you forgotten what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm?” A few people cried in the negative. “And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire!”

Thorin’s eyes flashed, but before he could respond, the master spoke up, pointing a thick finger at Bard. His eyes gleamed with oily mirth. “Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Lord Girion,  _ your _ ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!”

“It’s true, sire,” Alfrid said. “We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark.” 

_ Right. Because just about anyone can kill a dragon.  _ That was a weak argument, but Bard had already lost the battle, and he knew it.

The man turned to Thorin, anger carved into his features. “You have no right.” He shook his head. “ _ No right _ to enter that mountain.”

Thorin leveled him with a cool stare. “I have the only right.” He turned his back and addressed the master. “What say you? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?”

Regis pretended to think for a moment, greed glinting in his eyes. “I say unto you...welcome! Welcome, and thrice welcome, King under the Mountain!” The crowd cheered again. Bard shot one last glare at Thorin before vanishing in the masses. The master beckoned for them to enter the Town Hall. “Do come in, so that we may discuss the terms of this agreement.” Clearly he wanted to have something down on paper to ensure that he would get his share of the gold.

Holly was halfway up the steps when Alfrid caught sight of her and sent her an acidic glare. “What’s  _ she _ doing here?”

Dwalin, of all people, stepped forward and gave the man a challenging stare of his own. “She’s with us. If you have a problem, keep it to yourself.”

As they brushed past the weaselly man, Holly wanted to say something along the lines of  _ thank you _ , but her voice caught in her throat. As Bilbo had said, every single person in the Company was loyal beyond doubt and she knew every one of them would not hesitate to stand up for each other. Under all the facial hair and scars, they were immeasurably kind. And that was why she had ended up caring for them in the first place.

Inside, the master offered them drinks, and he, Alfrid, Balin, and Thorin went off to one side to discuss the details of the transaction. 

Holly stood by one of the windows, gazing out at the darkened houses. The torchlight made shadows flicker as though someone was moving just out of sight. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. No one was out to get her.

“You going to just stand there all night?”

Holly looked up. Bofur waved her over. He and the others were all seated around a table, mugs of ale in hand.

“What?”

“Come join us.”

“I don’t drink,” she said. She’d always equated the use of alcohol to lowering oneself a step closer to the mentality of a farm animal.

“Then come and talk with us.”

“Oh. Right.” That was what she was supposed to do. They were her friends, and she’d come to enjoy their silly jokes and banter. She remembered what Thorin had said to her earlier—it was her choice, how she interacted with the others. And if this was their last night together, then she could at least make it enjoyable.

Holly smiled and went to join her friends.

\---

She had almost forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by drunken dwarves. It wasn’t an experience she missed, but at least now she could watch them with some degree of fondness to go along with the greater degree of exasperation. She’d moved back by the window, though, to avoid any potentially airborne food.

She didn’t know what they were still doing here. Negotiations had ended an hour ago. Now that alcohol had become the sole subject of interest, she felt a bit out of place.

Holly crossed her arms and sighed. She could sulk for another hour. She considered leaving, but walking alone through Laketown at night made her uneasy.

“They’re getting a bit loud, aren’t they?”

Holly stiffened. She hadn’t heard Bilbo approach. Damn his quiet hobbit feet.

“Oh, are we speaking to each other now?” she said, because at the moment she didn’t know what to be except absolutely awful.

“I don’t recall you making any attempts at conversation,” he replied. 

Holly noted the lack of offended silence that usually followed one of her comments.  _ He must have prepared himself for this. _ “You’re jumping to the conclusion that I want to talk to you at all.”

“Well, that’s fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, then you don’t have to.” Thirty seconds of angry silence passed before Bilbo said, “Actually, it might be better for you to say something. Becau—”

“You want me to talk? Then you must have not been paying attention these past  _ six _ months.” Holly knew she was being childish and unreasonable. It had to be this damned town. It was bringing out the worst in her—what she had been before. “I’ll speak if I have something of value to say. Currently I have nothing to say to you. So—”

“That’s not true at all. You never told me about how you felt—”

“Did you expect me to?” Holly raised her voice, trying to block out his words and the flood of shame that they brought.

“You could at least stop acting like you’ve been terribly wronged—”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re about as perceptive as a  _ sack of fish _ —”

“That’s  _ enough _ .”

Holly realized the whole room had fallen silent and everyone was staring at them save Thorin, who had been the one to speak and was glaring at them.

“Both of you—outside, now,” he said. “Come back inside once you’re done bickering.”

_ This is probably what he does when Fíli and Kíli argue, _ Holly thought with a scowl. She despised the feeling of being dismissed, but she stormed out anyway. If one of them was going to have the dramatic exit, it was going to be her.

A blast of cold air clawed against her cheeks as Holly opened the door and strode down into the street. Behind her, she heard the door close and Bilbo’s voice calling out, “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to actually deal with your problems for once.”

Holly stopped, narrowing her eyes at the accusation. Being petty wasn’t going to work with him. She walked back onto the porch, locking eyes with him and hardening her voice. “I don’t think there’s anything to be  _ dealt with _ , but if you believe you have something worthwhile to say, then go on. I’ll try not to die in the process.”

He opened his mouth to snap at her, then sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Holly. Don’t make me fight with you.”

Holly pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to fight with him either. She wanted a resolution, despite what she had said to Thorin earlier. That meant talking about a subject she’d been avoiding all day. Perhaps she could dismiss the issue without having to talk about her personal feelings. 

"Well, I'm sorry about kissing you," she forced out. "I was worried you might have drowned, and I was relieved that you hadn’t." She remembered that Bilbo had thought the same about her and he hadn't reacted that way. "And I was delirious from lack of air.”

"Oh. That—That's why you did that?" 

She nodded. "I-I never intended to disrupt what we had. I still want to, um, to be friends. If that’s all right with you. And it’s not a problem if you don’t have romantic feelings directed towards me, because..."  _ I care about you so much and losing you would hurt me in ways I don’t understand. _ She couldn’t possibly say that out loud.

“Except, well, I do.”

“Good, because, well, something—well, a lot of things happened in Mirkwood that made me act not like myself, though I’m not quite sure what ‘myself’ even means anymore, seeing as I…” Holly’s train of thought slammed to a halt as she processed what he had just said. “I—you—what?”

“I do,” he said (was he  _ blushing _ ?), “have feelings for you.”

She must have misheard. “So, in fact, you mean—”

“Yes.”

“I’m—we’re—that is to say…”

“Of course. Yes. All of that. I like you, Holly, and not just...as a friend.”

Holly blinked. “Oh. Well.” She must be dreaming. “You might have tried to indicate that back at the river.”

“I'm sorry about that. I was confused and...surprised. I didn’t think that you could have ever felt that way. And, uh, you might want to give me a warning next time you decide to kiss me like that.”

“Right.” Holly’s initial shock was starting to wear off. It was a valid point. She had felt the same way about herself—she had always considered romance a waste of time as well as a disadvantage. And then Bilbo Baggins had walked into her life and changed all of that.

“And I wasn’t planning on forming any sort of relationship in my life. ‘Bachelor Bilbo Baggins’—that’s what everyone used to call me, back home, and I meant to keep it that way.” He paused and sighed. “And we’re not even of the same race.”

Interracial relationships were not looked down upon, but they were discouraged and rare. She had only ever heard of men and elves forming romantic relationships. “Big Folk” hardly ever took to courting the “Little Folk” of Middle Earth. Though she wasn’t sure how valid that last point was considering her height.

Bilbo took her hand in his, making her heart race. “But I want to figure this out. With you.”

The ache in her chest reappeared as she realized such a thing was impossible. “You’re leaving tomorrow. To go fight a dragon.”

“Then I’ll come visit you once I’m done.” The humor in his eyes quieted. “And if I don’t...well, at least we have tonight.”

“I suppose that’s better than nothing.” Holly gave him a tentative smile. He smiled back at her, eyes full of tenderness. How had she never noticed that before? Apparently she had been blind to a lot of things. But now she had a chance to make things right. “Right. So we’re good, then?” 

“Yes, we’re good.” 

“Good,” she said again, and they both giggled. 

“I never got the chance to thank you,” Bilbo said. “For saving my life, back at the river.”

Holly shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“You almost died.”

“I did, yes.” Holly didn’t know how to respond to that. “Well, when all this is over, I could teach you how to swim, and we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Bilbo gave her a soft smile. “I’d like that.” He glanced back at the Town Hall as a loud thump sounded, followed by several drunken shouts. “We should probably go back inside now. Getting cold out here.” 

“You go ahead. I need a moment. To think.” And to discern whether or not she was hallucinating.

“All right.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t stay out too long.”

Once he had gone back inside, Holly leaned against the railing of the porch, smiling to herself. The cool air felt nice on her heated cheeks. 

A movement in the peripheral of her vision caught her eye. A man was standing on the other side of the square, watching her. She checked behind her—no, the man was looking at her. Holly sighed. The gesture meant nothing. Laketown had its fair share of less mentally stable residents. 

Nonetheless, a chill ran up her spine. She needed to get back inside.

But curiosity rooted her to the spot as the man walked over to her side of the square, his footsteps making the barest  _ tap tap  _ in the silence of the night. He watched her with glinting dark eyes.

Holly was turning to walk back inside when he spoke.

“What, you’re just going to go in without saying hello?”

Holly froze. His  _ voice _ . She had never seen him before, but the sound of his voice made her hands tremble.

This man was the owner of the voice in her nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought!


	18. The Crooked Man

**Chapter 18: The Crooked Man**

 

Holly wasn’t dreaming. If anything, she was having another nightmare.

She curled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “I was wondering when we were going to meet face to face.” 

The man gave her a casual once-over, his relaxed stance in stark contrast to the predatory glint in his eyes. “You’re shorter than I thought you would be. A side effect, I suppose.”

“A side effect of what, exactly?” She wished she would stop shaking. “What did you do to me?”

“I think we should discuss that somewhere private.” He gestured for her to follow him.

Holly glared. “No, we can talk right where we are. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Oh, this isn’t going to work out if you don’t understand how this works. It’s quite simple, really; I set the rules, and you follow them.” His gaze drifted toward the Town Hall window as another bout of laughter sounded from inside. “I understand, though. You’re new to this. So I’ll be generous and give you fourteen strikes. Every time you step out of line, one of your friends will die.”

Holly forgot her fear for a moment and stepped forward. “If you even touch one of them, I’ll kill you.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Now, I could count that as a strike. Or you could follow me. I’m giving you the choice.”

Holly grit her teeth. The man had the upper hand for now, and she could not afford to put her friends at risk. “Lead on, then.”

He nodded and began walking. “The name’s Damon, by the way,” he said over his shoulder. “I already know who your are.”

Holly took a shuddering breath, then began following him at a distance, ready to turn around and run if she had to.

When Damon stopped walking, she observed their surroundings and froze. For twenty years, she had avoided this place like the plague.

“Seemed like an appropriate place to talk.”

They stood at the dock at the edge of the town. It was the place where her father had killed himself. It was all part of his strategy, Holly realized, to unsettle and unhinge her. It was vital that she keep her composure. She could not give him any sort of advantage over her.

“Do explain, then, why this location is  _ appropriate _ .”

“So rude,” Damon said. “Your father would be disappointed. He was a nice man, though certainly not the smartest.”

Holly swallowed, hard. “He didn’t kill himself,” she guessed. “You made him do it.”

Instead of confirming her statement, he tilted his head. “You know, I really expected you to be taller.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” It seemed there was some sort of connection between her father’s death and the spell he had placed on her, but she was struggling to identify it.

“Now you’re asking the right questions.” He began pacing back and forth across the dock. Holly took a step backwards. “That’s the only really important thing you can do in your life, isn’t it? If you don’t ask questions, what’s the point?” Damon fixed her with an intense gaze. “Your father asked me plenty of questions. Too bad he didn’t like the answers I gave him.”

“What are you talking about?” She clenched her jaw as her voice wavered. She hated how weak and vulnerable she felt. “What did you say to him?”

“Oh, lots of things. And I didn’t put a spell on him, if you’re wondering. I only talked to him, and then he killed himself.”

“Why would he do that?”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. You don’t expect me to give you all the answers, do you?”

Holly let out a slow breath, focusing on the familiar worn wood of the dock. It was hard to think when she was so afraid. “He knew about what you did to me, didn’t he?”

“He did. I told him I would undo the spell if he got out of my way.”

Holly’s ears started to ring. “But you didn’t.” And she’d lost her father for nothing. A thrill of anger swept through her body and nearly engulfed what little composure she had left.

_ Pull yourself together.  _ She still had to get a full explanation from him.

“How much do you know about that, anyway?” Damon grinned. “How much were you able to figure out?”

“I know you used dark magic to attach my soul to the dragon Smaug’s. And I also know that you are going to separate them, even if I have to hold a knife to your throat while you do it.”

“I can’t, unfortunately. It’s permanent—your soul and the dragon’s are intertwined. Separating them magically would destroy both.”

She didn’t quite believe that, but another question had already pressed its way to the front of her mind. “Why? Why did you do it?”

“Well, I got the idea from an old text I found. When I finally learned how, it was like a door had opened up. I was blessed with the power to manipulate  _ souls _ , the very fabric of a person’s spiritual being. Wouldn’t you want to play around with that?”

The more she listened to his ramblings, the more certain she was that the man who had permanently altered her life was insane _. _

“There were others besides you, if you’re wondering. Some of them died, and some of them went mad. I tried to go after the ones without family—didn’t want too many people asking questions. But you...I just couldn’t help myself. I realized I needed someone with a mind like yours. Your father used to brag about how smart of a child you were, to anyone who would listen.

“And now you’re probably going to ask about the dragon. I’ll save you the trouble. Two human souls couldn’t be combined. The subjects never lasted more than a few hours. Same thing with dwarves, and I never got my hands on an elf. Regular animals weren’t intelligent enough to be used but a  _ dragon… _ ” Damon grinned again, seemingly lost in his own memories. “You are my one success, Holly. I’ve tried for the past two decades, but I’ve never been able to replicate your results. Maybe I’ll try something with your halfling friend next, I’ve never—”

“You will do no such thing,” Holly snarled, terror and confusion forgotten as she advanced on him. “You try anything and I’ll—”

The blow to her face came so hard and fast that Holly couldn’t catch her fall. She landed hard on her back, her head knocking against the ground. Blood welled in her mouth from where she had bitten down on her tongue.

When she tried to push herself to her feet, Damon’s foot came down on her ankle, just hard enough to hurt. “I’m not done with you yet. We’re just getting to the good part.”

Holly sucked in a deep breath, which required more effort than it should have. “You think this is a game? After however many lives you’ve taken for your own twisted amusement?”

“You’re right. This isn’t a game.” He clapped his hands, the sharp noise making her flinch. “Change of plans, then. Let’s make this about...survival.”

He took his foot off her ankle, and Holly scrambled to her feet.

“There’s one thing I forgot to mention,” Damon said once he had ascertained that she would not run away. “Not only is your soul connected to the dragon’s, your mind is as well. While Smaug has been sleeping in the mountain, he’s been watching everything you’ve been doing. When the dragon wakes, it will be a battle of wills—two minds, two bodies fighting for consciousness, for control. And I think we both know who’s winning so far.”

She did. The random moments when she would black out, and have visions of what must have been Erebor, had not been lapses in her own consciousness, but just the opposite for the dragon. Holly couldn’t keep control of her consciousness for even a few seconds. If Smaug had a reason to stay awake, she would have no hope of fighting back.

“And then you’ll watch your friends die.”

“Not if they kill him first,” she said.

He grimaced in an expression of what could have been mistaken for sympathy. “But if they kill Smaug, you’ll die as well.”

“A-And what if he dies, while I’m conscious?”

Damon rolled his eyes up towards the sky, as though considering her question. “Then there’s a chance you’d survive.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Now that would be a fun experiment, wouldn’t it?”

He was asking her to do the impossible. But it was  _ something _ , a sliver of hope that they could all make it out alive. But until she could figure out how to fight against the will of a dragon, she was trapped between two equally unfavorable solutions. Dying meant leaving behind a life she had finally found worth living. But Holly would be damned if she let anything happen to her friends.

Either way, she would end up losing everything.

“See, I’m not that bad. I even gave you a way out, even if you’ll never actually make it.”

Holly swallowed down a sob. “I’ll find a way. I’ll find a way to beat your game. And then I’m coming for you.”

If she stayed any longer, she would break down. Holly began backing away, watching Damon warily.

The man only grinned and said, “I’ll be in touch, Holly. This isn’t over, not by a long shot.”

Holly turned and ran until her legs gave out. She found an abandoned alleyway and leaned against the wall, shaking hard. Blind terror gave way to a tumult of information as she tried to process everything she had been told.

Her father had been forced to take his own life. She had been living the past twenty years with a dragon inside her head, watching her every move. A dragon that, using sheer force of will, could cause her to fall unconscious. 

Another terrible thought occurred to her. The dragon had seen and heard everything she’d done for the past five months. Smaug knew everything—the hidden door, the key, the Company’s entire plan. He had all the knowledge he needed to destroy her friends. 

Holly put her face in her hands. She’d doomed them all. Her breath came in short gasps, and a few tears leaked out for good measure as well.

The creak of wood made her push herself to her feet. Damon might have followed her. With a wary glance at the darkened windows and empty streets, she began walking, though she didn't have a set destination in mind. Perhaps she would be safer if she kept moving.

Of course she couldn’t tell the Company. They would hate her if they knew what she had done to their quest, their future. Holly squeezed her eyes shut, head pounding.

She needed to find them. 

Hopefully she could catch up before they left, so she could say goodbye.

\---

The rising sun turned the sky a pale white-gold. Despite the early hour, many of the Laketown citizens were awake and had congregated around the main canal that led through the city.

Holly pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the various grumbles and protests she received. She would find the Company and wish them luck on the last part of their journey. It would take five minutes, at most. She could hold herself together for five minutes.

She spotted Thorin’s dark mane next to a small barge, which he was filling with weapons and supplies. The others were climbing into the vessel, dressed in pieces of guard’s uniforms that were much too big for them.

Holly started at the pressure of a hand on her shoulder. But she forced herself to relax at the sound of a familiar voice, and turned to face its owner.

“Where have you been? I was worried sick!” Bilbo said, concern and relief mingling in his voice. There were dark shadows under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept the previous night either.

This wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.

“Sorry. I decided to take a walk, and lost track of time.” It was difficult to tell a lie to him, even such a transparent one.

His eyes flickered to her jaw, where she’d been hit, and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. Bilbo opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue with her, but then he dropped his hand from her shoulder, giving a small sigh. “We’ll talk about it later. Once we’re out of here we can—”

“No, we can’t. I’m not—I’m not going with you, Bilbo. I have to wait here for Gandalf, remember?”

“You could still come with us,” he said, his gaze quiet and pleading. “And meet up with Gandalf later.”

Under different circumstances she would have wanted to follow them to the mountain. They had already come so far together,and it only made sense that she would be there to see the end with them. But she would only cause more damage than she’d already done if she went with them. 

“We could all protect you. You wouldn’t have to be afraid of the dragon.”

“No.” Holly stepped back. The word came out harsher than she meant it to, but if she softened up now she would break down. 

He frowned. “What is it?”

She thought about the happiness the two of them had shared the previous night, and how that was all they would ever have. Her next words were almost too painful to say out loud. “It was foolish of me to start something I couldn’t continue.” She backed away further. Tears pricked her eyes as she stared at the hurt and confusion pooling in his. “When this is over, go home. Don’t bother looking for me.”

And before she could do any more damage, Holly turned her back and disappeared into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. I hope you all understood most of the magical-concept-stuff.  
> As always, thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think.


	19. A Last Confession

**Chapter 19: A Last Confession**

 

Holly pushed her way through the crowd, bringing up one hand to wipe her eyes, and failing to avoid the stout figure that rammed into her, making her stumble.

“Watch it!” she snapped, then realized whom she was snapping at. “Bofur?”

He pushed his hat up from where it had fallen over his eyes and looked around frantically. “Did I miss the boat? Have the others left yet?”

Holly glanced back at the canal. The crowd was already dispersing, and the barge was nowhere in sight. “Yes. The others are gone.” She turned back to him and furrowed her brow. “Why aren't you with them?”

Bofur hung his head. “I had a bit too much to drink last night. I overslept.” He glanced around the emptying docks, shoulders sagging. He had lost his opportunity, Holly realized, to reclaim Erebor along with the others, even though he had worked just as hard as the rest of them. She was trying to think of something comforting to say when Bofur perked up, his attention focusing on a small group sitting the the docks. 

Holly followed him over to the group, and felt a rush of shock as she recognized Fíli, Kíli, and Óin. 

“You missed the boat as well?” Bofur asked.

Fíli shook his head. “Thorin would not let Kíli go with them.” He was supporting his brother with one arm. Kíli’s skin was pale and his gaze was unfocused. Fíli was almost as pale as his brother. “I think he’s sick.”

Holly twisted her coat sleeves. Now Smaug knew that four of the dwarves wouldn’t be traveling to Erebor, and that one of them was ill and vulnerable. 

Kíli slumped forward with a low moan. Fíli managed to catch him before he hit the ground. Bofur reached out as well to support him.

“Do you think his wound is infected?” Holly asked.

Fíli sent his brother a sharp glance. “You told me your leg was fine.”

“I  _ am _ fine,” Kíli said, though his speech was slurred and he was leaning heavily on Fíli and Bofur.

Óin stood up. “We need to get the lad somewhere I can tend to him.”

“I know where the healer lives,” Holly said. “Follow me.”

Fortunately, the healer’s house was only a few blocks away. Kíli had enough trouble walking that short distance, even with Bofur and Fíli helping him.

Holly walked up to the door and knocked. When she didn’t receive a response, she raised her fist and banged on the wood. “Damn fool’s probably passed out.”

Sure enough, when the healer finally opened the door, the stench of alcohol and sweat wafted onto the street. “Eh, what is it? What do you want?”

“Please, we need your help. My brother is sick,” Fíli said, struggling to keep his brother upright.

The healer blinked at them, and his expression dropped as he realized he was talking to a group of dwarves. “I don’t know much about healing dwarves.”

“We need medicine,” Óin said. “And a place to stay. I’ll be doing the healing.”

He shifted from one sock-clad foot to the other. “Well, I can’t just be giving medicine out for free. If you want to stay here, you’ll need to pay your way.”

“How much?” Holly asked.

“Thirty.”

“That’s bullshit! We’re not asking you to sew his damn leg back on, we just need a few herbs.”

The healer’s face flushed. “If you’re not going to pay, then get off my doorstep.”

And before they could say another word, he slammed the door shut. Holly spat at the door and turned away.

“No, that can’t be it.” Fíli made to knock on the door again, but Holly put one hand on his arm.

“He’s not going to help us. He’d made up his mind as soon as we opened the door.”

“That’s your town’s healer?” Óin asked, brow furrowed in disgust. “What do you do when one of you gets sick and can’t pay?”

“We wait.” Holly walked back to the street. Her stomach turned as she thought of her mother. 

“What do we do now?” Bofur asked. “There’s got to be somewhere else we can go.”

“No one in this town gives a damn about other people unless something is in it for them.” Holly sighed. “I think you'll find that to be the golden rule of this entire town.” 

Although, every rule had its exceptions.

\---

Bard’s expression darkened as soon as he opened the door. “No. I’m done with dwarves. Go away.” He tried to slam the door shut, but Bofur stopped it with his foot.

“Wait! No one will help us. Kíli’s sick—he’s very sick.”

“We don’t know what to do,” Holly said. “We’re afraid he’s…” She trailed off, gazing at the man with wide eyes.

Bard glanced back at Kíli and hesitated. “One night,” he said. “And then I don’t want to see any of you again.”

Fíli and Bofur thanked him more times than necessary and helped Kíli onto one of the beds inside. Óin took out his medicine bag and began undoing the makeshift bandages around his leg.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Holly took a tentative step forward. 

“What you can do is get some rest,” Óin replied without looking up. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

She felt like it. She hadn’t slept at all the previous night, and the night before that, in Thranduil’s dungeons, had been restless and draining. 

But there was no way she was going to sleep if it meant having another nightmare. “I can take care of myself. I’m well rested enough.” Did drowning count as sleep?

“Oin’s right. You look exhausted,” Fíli said.

“You can take the room in the back.” Bard said.

Holly sighed. If she kept protesting, they might become suspicious. “Fine. I’ll see you lot in a few hours.”

Now that her mind had acknowledged her lack of sleep, her body was starting to feel it. She nearly stumbled into the tiny bedroom and shut the door behind her. Perhaps a few hours of sleep was just what she needed.

_ No. _ A simple rest would turn into something far worse. Holly slumped against the door, sliding down until she was sitting with her back against the wood. She could keep quiet and wait a few hours.

Holly peered through the window, where sunlight was streaming in. She wondered how the others were faring. It would take them the whole day to get to the mountain. And after that…

The chance that they would both survive and see each other again was slim to none. Smaug wouldn’t rest until he had killed all the dwarves. Holly waited for the tears to come, but she was too spent, like a washcloth wrung until it had no water left.

It was only when she thought of Bilbo, and how harsh her words had been, that her eyes began to sting. She’d give anything to take it back. But it was too late now, and she was left with the thought that her sharp words would be the last thing she ever said to him.

\---

At the foot of the Lonely Mountain, a small valley dipped down into a rocky plain, then rose again in a steep embankment, the top of which held a collection of old, abandoned buildings. Snow and ash dusted its forlorn rooftops and empty streets. The bleached alabaster of the buildings combined with swirling mist made the structure look like a skeleton.

Bilbo surveyed the pitiful landscape, all of it painted a cheerless gray. There were no trees, no plants to be found anywhere. “What is this place?”

“It was once the city of Dale,” Balin replied. “Now it is a ruin—the desolation of Smaug.”

“It’s so quiet.” The air was empty of the rustling of trees or the noises of wild animals—the silence almost felt like that of a tomb.

“It wasn’t always like this. Once, these slopes were lined with woodlands, and trees filled with birdsong.” Balin gazed at the barren, rocky tundra, a mournful half-smile on his face.

“The sun will soon reach midday,” Thorin said, scaling the slope and searching for a way across the valley. “Let’s find the hidden door before it sets. This way.” He began making his way down a worn path to their right.

The others followed. Bilbo paused and sent a glance back at the Long Lake, towards the small, dark shape that was Laketown.

Holly’s words had stung, and confused him as well. Last night she had been truly honest with him. They’d finally been able to come clear with each other. And then she’d disappeared for several hours, only showing up at the last minute with a  _ bruise _ on her face and wide, panicked eyes. He’d wanted to help her with whatever had her so frightened, but she hadn’t given him the chance.

She had rejected him, with no explanation as to why, and left before he’d had the chance to ask her.

Though he was guilty of the same thing, Bilbo realized as he thought back to their mishap at the river.

He shook his head and followed the others. It was no use worrying about it now. Once this whole business with the dragon was over, he would talk to her about it.

That is, if she was willing to listen.

\---

Holly was jolted awake when someone opened the door to the bedroom, causing her to fall flat on her back.

She grunted and glared up at Bofur, who had jumped back after opening the door. “Can I help you?”

“You know, people usually sleep on the bed, not the floor,” he replied, mustache twitching.

“Right.” Holly got to her feet. She was annoyed with herself for falling asleep, but thankfully she hadn’t had any nightmares. “How long was I asleep?”

“Sunset was about an hour ago,” Bofur replied. “So, most of the day.”

“And how is Kíli?”

Bofur’s smile slid into a frown. “Not good.”

Fíli and Óin were tending to him in the next room. Kíli was sleeping fitfully, sweat gleaming on his face. His skin had turned a few shades grayer and there were dark circles under his eyes. Fíli was sitting by the bed, watching his brother, while Óin was boiling water at the stove.

Holly took a seat next to Fíli. “Is he poisoned?” He stiffened at her inquiry, and she realized that might have been a bit too blunt. Holly shook her head. “I mean, how is he?”

“Óin thinks it is poison,” Fíli said in a heavy voice.

“Oh.” Holly glanced at Kíli. His whole body was tense, even while sleeping. “What kind of poison? Does Óin know how to treat it?”

“I  _ don’t know _ , all right?” Fíli said, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. It’s just—I’m worried for Kíli.”

“It’s all right. You have every reason to be worried. He’s your brother, and you’re close to him.” 

Fíli looked up at her. “Do you have any siblings?”

Holly blinked at the abrupt question, then her lips twitched into a frown. “An older sister.”

“And you would do anything to protect her, would you not?”

“I would do anything to protect my friends. I would do anything to protect the Company.” They had become something akin to family to her. She didn’t know all of them that well, but she would, without a doubt, do anything to save them. Even if it meant dying. Holly swallowed hard against the strange lump in her throat. She made to stand up. “Let me know if you need any help taking care of Kíli.”

As if on cue, Kíli let out a cry of pain, eyes flying open. Óin rushed over and ordered Bofur to get the hot water. 

He pressed a hand against Kíli’s forehead. “I need herbs. Something to bring down his fever,” the healer said, turning to rifle through his medicine bag. 

Bard stood up as well and grabbed several jars off a shelf. “I have nightshade, feverfew—”

“They’re no use to me. Do you have any kingsfoil?”

Bard drew his eyebrows together. “No, it’s a weed. We feed it to the pigs.”

Bofur turned around. “Pigs? Weed? Right.” He turned back to Kíli. “Don’t move,” he said rather unnecessarily, then started for the door. Halfway there, he paused. “Where exactly—?” 

Holly began walking towards the door. “I’ll show you.”

The two of them hurried out of the house and down an alleyway. Laketown was a veritable maze with its criss-crossing canals, alleys, and inadequate number of bridges, but when one had lived in said maze, it was easier to navigate.

“This way.” Holly made another turn and the Lonely Mountain came into view. She suppressed a shudder. The others would have reached the mountain by now, and if everything had gone according to plan, they should be inside. How long did she have, before—

“Is something wrong?” Bofur’s voice shook her out of her thoughts. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“I’m worried for the others.” That was as truthful as she could get.

“Don’t be worried, lass. Thorin knows what he’s doing.”

Holly nodded. “Let’s hope so.” Perhaps Thorin would find a way to kill the dragon. But how could he do so with only nine dwarves, when an entire army had failed?

“Say, did you and Bilbo ever work out things between you two?”

Holly sighed. “I will admit that I have no earthly idea how to answer that question.”

He patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. Everyone does, eventually.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together.

“You know, I’ve always found it easier to talk things through...horizontally, if you catch my meaning.”

Holly turned to look at him. “What?”

“It doesn’t work for everyone, but most people are extraordinarily honest after they’ve had a good f—”

“Bofur, I will  _ pay _ you to stop talking right now.”

He laughed. “Sure thing, lass.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Anyway. Kingsfoil.” They’d reached the pen where the pigs were kept.

Bofur apologetically grabbed a bundle of the plant from a pig’s mouth and they hurried back to Bard’s. 

The house had only just come into view when a strange noise made Holly freeze. It was a musical clanging with a strange hardness to it, like metal on metal. She swiveled around but couldn't locate it's source.

“Something wrong?” Bofur raised an eyebrow. 

“You didn't hear that?” Her eyes darted from the abandoned boats in the canal to the empty storefronts to a wooden staircase with potted plants stacked on each step. It sounded again, so close to her ear that Holly brought one hand up to try and swat away the source of the noise. 

“I don't—”

Whatever Bofur had been about to say was cut off by a high-pitched scream, followed by a crash of splintering wood. Moments later, an orc dropped down from a roof and landed right in front of them, drawing a jagged sword and knocking Bofur from his feet.

Holly stumbled back. The orcs from the river had found them. She was looking around for something to defend herself with when everything went black—

_ Deep within the mountain, atop hills and rivers of gold, a tiny presence was making its way through the vast horde of treasure. _

_ Smaug could smell the little thief. He could hear its breath, sense its presence in the vast hall. _

_ Perhaps it was time to remind the small creature who he was stealing from. _

_ He rose from his position beneath the gold, the treasure sliding off him in shimmering waves. _

_ “Where are you, thief? Come now, don’t be shy. Step into the light.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be entirely Smaug's POV. Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think.


	20. His Last Flight

**Chapter 20: His Last Flight**

 

“There is something about you, thief in the shadows.” Smaug slithered around one of the columns in the hall, flicking his tail as he moved. It was delightful to stretch his muscles after such a long period of dormancy. “Something you carry.” He could feel dark tendrils of a powerful magic extending and reverberating around the hall. “Something made of gold, but far more  _ precious _ .”

The tiny creature became visible, cowering next to a pillar as he slid a small item into his pocket. Strange, it had a similar aura—but no, it was impossible that such a weakling could be in possession of such a powerful object. He ducked down to eye level with the halfling. “Ah, there you are, thief in the shadows.”

“I-I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug the unassessably wealthy,” the halfling said, surprising him. Was he actually attempting to lie? “I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence, to see if you were really as great as the old tales say. I-I did not believe them.”

He  _ was _ attempting to lie. How amusing.

Well, he would show him just how formidable a dragon could be.

Smaug rose from his crouch, stepping around the pillar into full view and spreading his wings. “ _ And do you now _ ?” His voice echoed around the hall for a full minute before the halfling spoke again.

“Truly, the tales and songs fall utterly short of your magnificence, O Smaug the Stupendous.”

“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?”

“N-No, no.”

“No, indeed.” The creature’s lies were pathetic and flimsy. He already knew what the halfling had been doing and who had sent him to rifle through his treasure in the first place. But how much was he willing to fabricate to save his own skin? “You seem familiar with my name, though I don’t remember smelling your kind before.” He brought himself closer, looking straight into the halfling’s eyes. “Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?”

“I—” The creature paused, eyes flickering down at something in the piles of gold. Out of the corner of his eye, Smaug could see the ethereal light of the Arkenstone. So that was what those filthy dwarves wanted. “I come from under hill.”

“Under hill?” Smaug repeated, intrigued despite himself. 

The halfling bobbed his head, eyes flickering once more to the Arkenstone. “And under hills, and over hills, my path has led...and through the air. I am he who walks unseen.”

_ Ah _ . He was speaking in riddles, describing what he had experienced on his journey. Smaug could recognize a few of the events from what he had seen through the young woman’s eyes. “Impressive. What else do you  _ claim _ to be?”

“I-I am luck-wearer. Riddle-maker.” 

“Lovely titles. Go on.”

“B-Barrel-rider.”

He was losing his courage. Smaug could smell his fear. “Barrels? Now that is intriguing.” On the contrary, he was rather losing his interest in the halfling’s riddles. “And what about your little dwarf friends? Where are they hiding?”

“D-Dwarves?” the halfling said, feigning ignorance—a pathetic attempt. “No, no dwarves here. You’ve got that all wrong. I came in here by myself. Stumbled upon the entrance, in fact. I’m all alone.”

The dragon smirked. “Now, I did not ask you how you came into this place, or even if you had come here alone. You’ve given me an awful lot of information for someone who is  _ telling the truth _ . No, I know your dwarf friends are skulking about outside while you do their dirty work in here.”

“Truly, you are mistaken, O Smaug, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities.”

He rather liked that one. “You have nice manners, for a thief and a  _ liar _ . I know the smell and taste of dwarf. None better.” The halfling thought he was being sneaky, inching toward where the Arkenstone lay. “It is the gold—they are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh.” He brought his claws down upon the pile of gleaming jewels, sending the Arkenstone skittering down the slopes of gold. The halfling skittered after it.

“Did you think I did not know this day would come?” Smaug said, “When a pack of canting dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?” He pushed a column aside as he followed the Arkenstone’s glittering path, the rock crumbling in his grip.

He had known for months that the dwarves were coming, and had enjoyed watching their struggles and toils. But he had never expected the filth to survive the journey. And now that they were prowling at his doorstep like petty thieves, he would make sure to slaughter every last one. They could not hope to stand against his might.

“The King Under the Mountain is dead,” he said as the halfling scrambled out from beneath his claws. “I took his throne. I ate his people like a wolf among sheep. I kill  _ where _ I wish,  _ when _ I wish. My armor is iron.” Smaug spread his wings, gliding down to a stone structure as the halfling hid underneath. “No blade can pierce me!”

And their leader, the supposed dwarvish ‘king’—he was the worst of all of them. “Oakenshield, that filthy usurper...he was the one to send you in to get the Arkenstone.” 

“No, no, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, if you’re going to lie to me, at least do a good job of it. I’ve known his foul purpose for quite some time. But it matters not. Oakenshield’s quest will fail.” 

The halfling had gone quiet. “You have been used, thief in the shadows.” Smaug leaned his head down next to the creature’s hiding place. “You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life, and found it worth  _ nothing _ .”

“No. No. No, you’re lying!”

“ _ You _ would speak to  _ me _ of lying, thief? Oh, you have been deceived. Do you think Oakenshield values you as a friend? Lies. Do you really think  _ she _ could care for you? All  _ lies _ .”

The dragon fell into a smug silence, listening for a reaction from the halfling. Besides the muffled panting echoing across the chamber, he heard nothing. Perhaps he would have to push a bit harder.

He rose from his crouch and surveyed the mountains of gold surrounding them. “What did Oakenshield promise you? A share of the treasure? As if it was his to give. I will not part with a  _ single _ coin. Not one piece of it.” He slithered off the platform and turned to face the halfling. The little creature had been inching forward and the Arkenstone was between the two of them, inches away from the halfling’s disproportionately large feet.

“I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart and drive him  _ mad _ .” He knew of the gold sickness, and its influence upon the line of Durin. If the dwarf king did manage to get his hands on the Arkenstone, it would be a fitting punishment for his thievery. “But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So, tell me, thief, how do you choose to die?” He inhaled, a white-hot, bone-melting heat building in his chest—

_ No, stop it!  _

Smaug growled as his vision warped, the piles of gold dimming for a moment as his eyes drooped shut. He had managed to keep a firm grip on his own consciousness so far, but the young woman was proving to be annoyingly persistent.

He regained his focus in time to see the halfling slip his trinket on again and disappear.

Smaug let forth his fire with a mighty roar, spreading it across the stone with a sweep of his head. Once the flames had disappeared, he drew back, searching the room with sharp eyes.

He could sense the dark, pulsating energy scurrying up one of the staircases, and made to follow it. He was about to send another stream of flame down the hallway where the halfling was making his escape when he paused. No doubt the little creature was running back to his dwarvish allies, and after realizing he had failed to retrieve the Arkenstone, they would have no choice but to battle him. 

And then he would kill all of them at once.

\---

Smaug could hear the dwarves and the halfling crawling about in the forges. It was an open, vulnerable area—a rather flawed hiding spot. Even a group of dwarves couldn't be  _ that _ stupid. They must have formulated a plan of some sort. But it mattered little. They had no hope of killing him.

The dragon rounded the corner and entered the hall adjacent to the forges. The dwarves stood just beyond his reach—a lattice of metal pillars occupied the space between them. One of the dwarves started forward, taking a cocky stance between two pillars.

“I did not look to see you so easily outwitted!” It was Oakenshield, the miserable rat.

Outwitted? No. Perhaps he had walked straight into whatever trap they had prepared, but the dwarves had fallen into his own trap by entering his domain.

“You have grown slow and fat in your dotage.  _ Slug _ .”

Smaug snarled at this. He would regret those words.

The intruders scrambled for cover—only seven of them, he noted, as opposed to nine—as the dragon let loose a barrage of flame. The nearer side of the pillars turned a glowing white-orange with the heat of his fire. The dragon waited with sharp eyes as the last of his flames dissolved in the stale air.

Much to his chagrin, the dwarves and the halfling appeared to have survived his assault. They scrambled from their hiding places behind the wide pillars, heading for the large stone furnaces that glowed with newfound fire.

That had been their plan—to provoke him into relighting the forges. Perhaps they meant to craft some weapons, the dragon thought with a smirk. 

He slammed his weight against the metal pillars, and the barrier buckled with a shriek. It only took a few more blows to create a sizable enough hole for Smaug to pry apart the metal with his claws. He crawled into the room, letting out a low growl as he searched for the black-haired dwarf.

A sudden weight forced the dragon downwards. A resounding crash followed as a string of carts that had hung from above slammed into the ground on either side. Smaug shook off the irksome burden, unfazed. The two missing dwarves must have cut the line from above.

No sooner had he regained his footing than a blinding flash stunned him. Across the room, another groups of dwarves were lobbing small explosives at him. Smaug shook off the effects of the blast, ire turning into anger. Their petty attempts to harm him were growing tiresome.

Oakenshield stood near one of the furnaces, giving orders to his kin. He would be the first to die. The dragon opened his maw, white-hot death building and releasing—

A gust of icy water enveloped his fire, extinguishing the flames with a hiss of steam. The blast hit the side of his head, the force smashing it against the stone of one of the forges. Smaug staggered, the impact stunning him.

_ Stay down. _

The gray rock disappeared, replaced with a crooked wooden ceiling and the smell of fish oil and tar.

It took far more effort this time to reassert control and open his eyes, only to blink against the ice-cold droplets that splashed against his face.

Smaug hissed in frustration and crushed the source of the water where it spouted from the mouth of a dwarvish head carved from the stone wall. Oh, how he longed to crush a  _ real _ dwarf’s skull, but one was only afforded a single opportunity to kill a creature, and he was already set on burning them to ash. 

“ _ Enough _ ,” the dragon said. “You have had your games, now it is time to  _ die _ .”

The dwarves responded in an appropriate fashion, turning and running towards the halls near the entrance of Erebor. He smirked at their cowardice. “Had enough of your petty tricks?”

They had distracted him long enough to make the forges operational, he noticed, and had managed to melt down the gold waiting in the furnaces from a long-abandoned project. The precious metal flowed in undulating, glistening streams through grooves in the floor, surging in the same direction as the dwarves. Smaug narrowed his eyes. Liquid or solid, the filth would not be stealing any of his treasure.

“Your efforts have been nothing more than a distraction,” he growled at the young woman in his head. “Are you ready to watch me kill your precious friends?”

He could feel her anger and fear, but that too would do nothing to dissuade him from his course.

He slithered back through the hole he had wrought in the iron gate, taking a briefer path to the Gallery of the Kings, which was adjacent to the entrance hall. He would cut them off there and put an end to their little escapade.

The stone wall crumbled under his grip, aged tapestries fluttering to the floor as the dragon stalked into the room. “You think you could deceive me?” he said to the silent space. No doubt the dwarves were cowering in a corner. He would have to draw them out with words. “I know you have come from Laketown. A pitiful place, full of sniveling cowards with their windlances and  _ black arrows _ .” Fortunately, he knew where the windlance was in the town, and could crush it with ease should the need ever arise. “Perhaps it’s time I paid them a visit.” He turned to the front gate of Erebor.

Sure enough, the halfling’s voice rang out in the vast hall as the small creature scurried out from underneath one of the fallen tapestries. “This isn’t their fault!  _ Wait _ ! You cannot go to Laketown.”

Smaug turned, a cruel sneer twisting his lips. “You care about them, do you? Good. Then you can watch them die.”

This was enough to draw out the dwarves. “Here, you witless worm!” Oakenshield called out from the end of the Gallery of the Kings. No doubt the rest of his shabby subordinates were hiding nearby.

Smaug turned, smooth, cold anger glowing in his eyes. “ _ You _ .”

“I am taking back what you stole.”

Oakenshield stood on a conglomeration of rock lumps, bracing himself with a chain connected to the surrounding apparatus.The dragon advanced on the dwarf, scales scraping against the stone floor.  “You would take nothing from  _ me _ , dwarf.  _ I _ laid low your warriors of old.  _ I _ instilled terror in the hearts of men.  _ I _ am King under the Mountain.”

“This is not your kingdom. These are dwarf lands, this is dwarf gold, and we will have our revenge.” Oakenshield glared in defiance as Smaug reached his eye level. He shouted something in the guttural dwarvish language and pulled hard on his chain.

The apparatus holding the rocks together was released. The dragon watched as the rock mold fell away piece by piece to reveal…

“ _ Ah _ .” Thoughts of the dwarves and his revenge slipped from his mind as his eyes fixated on the magnificent solid gold statue before him. A possessive thrill shivered its way down his spine. The work before him was exquisite, splendid,  _ flawless— _

The slightest distortion on the surface of the statue brought his attention back to the present. The golden exterior rippled, then burst, a shower of molten gold raining down. Smaug watched, frozen, as more pockets of hot gold burst and bubbled, and the gold statue began to collapse on itself. Once again, the dwarves had distracted him, and he could not move fast enough to escape the torrent of burning metal as it dragged his body down like a lead blanket. He let out one last snarl as his head was submerged.

His mouth was filled with a hot, bitter, metallic taste. The traitorous substance  _ burned _ him, its weight oppressive and suffocating _. _ Smaug tried to lift his smarting wings and found that he could not. He was trapped.

_ We will have our revenge. _

No. He could not allow the dwarves to win, and take his gold. It would be an unacceptable, not to mention embarrassing, fate. With one heave of his powerful muscles, Smaug burst from his golden prison with an agonized roar. 

“Revenge?  _ Revenge _ ? I will show you revenge!”

If he could not kill the dwarves outright, he could still cause them tremendous pain and destroy their allies. Besides, the young woman was proving to be more of an annoyance than he’d expected. He would have to put her impudence to an end before she could cause him any more trouble.

Smaug burst through the front gate and into the cool night air, leaving the dwarves crying out behind him. With one graceful twist of his body, he shed the golden sheen that had weighed him down. The dragon spread his wings against the moonlit clouds. Oh, how he had missed being able to stretch like this.

And he would relish in slaughtering the men of the lake.

As Smaug drew closer to the small town, he could hear faint screams and the ominous ringing of a bell. The villagers could see him coming, he realized with a sneer. They could flee or they could fight, but none would escape his wrath.

He flew low over the water, circling the town with his left side angled away from the town. Indeed, one of the scales under his wing had been loosened, and he would take no chances if his suspicions proved to be correct and a black arrow was concealed in Laketown.  

The windlance was his first target. Its wood and metal creaked and twisted as Smaug crushed it between his claws. He perched on the rickety wooden building, surveying the old, rotting wood, the tiny glints of terrified eyes staring up at him.  _ Pathetic _ .

The dragon grinned, revealing all of his teeth, and launched himself into the air to release devastation upon the town and its people.

Within minutes Laketown was ablaze. Charred and flaming wood crumbled into the lake, sending sparks flying into the air. A haze of smoke, the smell of burning flesh, and the screams of the damned filled the air. The mixture was  _ intoxicating _ . He was loathe to leave so soon, but it was time to return to the mountain and hunt down the dwarf-filth.

The metallic  _ twang _ of an arrow striking his hide brought the dragon out of his reverie. Though he could not feel the blow, the noise alone alerted him to the presence of someone in the town who was attempting to  _ attack _ him. Whoever it was, he had to be insane or stupid.

In either case, such impudence would not be tolerated.

Smaug located his assailant atop the bell tower in the center of town. The dragon landed a few blocks away, turning to the man with a snarl. 

“Who are you, that would dare stand against me?” He advanced on the tower, burning buildings crumbling under his claws. Through the smoke, the familiar visage of a certain bargeman glared back at him. “Has the village idiot come to prove his worth?”

But nocked in his bow was a long, slender, obsidian arrow. Somehow the man had managed to obtain the one weapon that could kill him. The dragon circled the tower, keeping his distance. Surely the bowman knew of the exposed area on his left side, but if he could not see it, he could not strike it.

“Your precious town is gone,  _ bowman _ , and your people are dead. You are forsaken.” He leaned forward, baring his fangs. “And now you, who has been so foolish as to defy me, will peri—acchh!” The dragons’ words were cut short as an unfathomable  _ pain  _ erupted in the back of his throat. White stars showered in his eyesight. His vision unfocused and refocused, and through his confusion he could see the man holding an empty bow—he had been  _ hit _ .

Smaug shook his head, causing an excruciating tearing sensation, and flailed his wings in an attempt to fly, to escape from this overwhelming agony, but he was not strong enough. His vision was fading again, and the flames suddenly went out, replaced by a night sky shrouded in smoke. He pushed back, desperately trying to regain consciousness, but the hot blood filling his throat proved far more distracting.

The fire, the moonlight, and the smoke all boiled together in a haze of torment.

And the last of the dragon’s fire was extinguished as he plummeted into the waters of the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what the hell happens to Holly after this? Find out in the next chapter! As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think.


	21. Desolation

**PART III: SICKNESS**

_ “What did it mean for a person to be free? Even if you managed to escape from one cage, weren’t you just in another, larger one?”—Haruki Murakami; 1Q84 _

**Chapter 21: Desolation**

 

Holly flinched, waiting for the impact of cold water. But nothing happened. The fire and smoke had disappeared. She realized she was lying on damp sand, and there was no blood in her mouth. 

She opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position with shaking arms. She was on the banks of the Long Lake. All around, people were calling out the names of their family or pleading for help. People from Laketown, she realized. And the bitter taste in the air was that of smoke.

“Holly! Thank Mahal!”

She flinched again as someone grabbed her, but it was only Bofur. She let out a trembling sigh as he pulled her into an embrace.

The others were standing behind him, looking at her with wide eyes. Dread slid down her spine. Had she been talking wild she was unconscious and let something slip? Why were they staring at her?

“W-What happened?”

Bofur pulled back and said, “Smaug attacked, about an hour after you blacked out. We managed to escape, but others weren’t so lucky.” 

“Right.” Holly glanced over at the lake. A haze of smoke and steam rose from the water. Only the barest outline of the town was visible. “Right. But why are you all looking at me like that?”

“You stopped breathing. We couldn’t wake you up,” Bofur replied in a softer tone. “We didn’t know what to do.”

“Are you sure you don’t get dizzy spells, lass?” Óin asked. Somehow he had still managed to keep his ear trumpet on his person.

She hugged her knees to her chest. Clearly they hadn’t forgotten the last time that had happened. A few days ago, she would have cringed at the thought. But now dizzy spells seemed a rather fortunate condition compared to being possessed by a dragon. “No, I don’t. I’m not sure what happened.”

That was a lie. Holly had experienced everything that had occurred after Smaug had woken in disturbing detail—even his death. Only at the last moment had she been fully able to regain her consciousness. 

Smaug was dead. And through her hazy disorientation, she could  _ feel _ it. A hollow, echoing absence had opened up inside of her—an empty room where someone had once lived. And as much as having a dragon in her head had been terrifying, and inconvenient, and probably physically and mentally unhealthy—Smaug had been there for almost everything she had ever experienced. And now that he wasn’t...

Holly didn’t feel liberated. She felt lost.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” Bofur asked, breaking her from her thoughts. He looked around, and seemed to realize that none of the people from Laketown had a place to go. “I mean, family, or friends, or someone you know?”

She pushed herself to her feet and looked around. She recognized most of the people here, but didn’t really  _ know _ any of them. Given the reputation she’d made for herself before leaving Laketown, she didn’t think any of them would welcome her presence. “I don’t…” She shook her head. “No, I don’t have any family left here.”

“You could come to Erebor with us. I don’t think anyone would be particularly opposed to that.” Bofur glanced at the others, and they nodded their concurrence.

Holly felt more lost now than she’d ever been, but she was certain of one thing—she wanted to be with her friends. They had remained a constant for the past few months and she needed that now. “All right.”

“Then we should get moving.” Fíli said. “If we start now we can reach the mountain by this afternoon.”

A warm, pulsing sensation had begun in the lower right side of her chest, but Holly ignored it. There were quite a few other things she had to sort through first. For now, she just wanted to get to the mountain. She wanted to see Bilbo, and apologize to him.

“Are you all right?”

She turned to Fíli, who had asked the question. The others were still staring at her.

Holly opened her mouth to reply a habitual, “I’m fine,” but paused. The familiar urge to conceal her emotions, and construct a facade of  _ not feeling _ had broken down. “I don’t know,” she replied. That was all she could manage at the moment.

A light rain began to fall. Holly turned her face towards the cloudy sky and knew in that moment that whatever had changed upon Smaug’s death was irreversible.

And she wasn’t certain that she wanted it to be. 

\---

They’d stopped for a short rest halfway up the slopes of the mountain. As the sun rose further into the sky, it illuminated the clouds of ash floating corpselike in the water.

Holly stared at the far-off wreckage of her old home. Laketown had been reduced to nothing more than a skeletal structure of crumbling ash and swirling debris. There was nothing left for its former inhabitants to return to. No trace of Smaug remained either. The dragon had been swallowed up by the lake.

Again, the realization came to her, resolute and unyielding, though she still struggled to grasp it. Smaug was dead, and she had made it out alive against all odds. 

She had yet to discover why that bothered her so much. Hadn’t she wanted the dragon to die?

Yes, if it meant that her friends lived. And they  _ had _ lived. She would see them soon.

She didn’t understand why it felt as though she’d lost something anyway.

“Holly.  _ Holly _ .” 

She turned. The others stood farther up the slope, and judging by Fíli’s tone, they’d been trying to get her attention for quite a while.

“Right. Sorry,” Holly said as she stood. “We’re moving on, then?”

“Yes.” Fíli and the others waited for her to catch up.

She appreciated that act of consideration. Perhaps she should have started returning the favor, after all the concern they had shown for her. “How’s your leg?” she asked Kíli as they began walking.

“Better. Much better.” 

The Kingsfoil had helped heal him, and the orcs had been fought off without anyone dying. There had been something about elves too, though Holly had been too preoccupied when they had explained this to her to listen to any of the details.

“I can walk just fine,” Kíli said in response to Fíli’s half-doubtful glance. “We didn’t need to stop and rest.”

“That was Morgul venom, lad,” Óin said. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Morgul venom?” Holly’s eyes widened. Kíli was indeed lucky to be alive. It was almost impossible to cure, if one managed to find help in time for that. She looked back at the lake again. “Well, that  _ is _ ironic.”

“What is?”

“I remember reading somewhere that dragon blood could be used to alleviate the effects of Morgul poison. Not that we could have used Smaug’s blood anyway, seeing as he’s at the bottom of the lake.” A strange sort of heaviness settled over her. “It’s just a theory, anyway.” Both the blood and the venom were rare, so the chances that anyone would have been able to test that theory were slim.

“Don’t worry about the people of Laketown,” Fíli said, causing her to turn back to the group. “Thorin will help them rebuild their lives.”

Holly didn’t see what that had to do with anything. Then she realized that they probably thought she was upset over the destruction of Laketown and the death of its people. It wasn’t that ludicrous of an assumption, seeing as it had been her home town. And she did keep staring off in that general direction.

But Holly had long since given up belonging with the people of the lake. What happened to them no longer concerned her. “Rebuilding or not, they’ll have to be able to withstand the invasion coming.”

Bofur frowned. “Invasion? What makes you say that?”

“Well, people will be looking to the mountain now that the dragon is gone. And throughout our journey we’ve managed to anger a mountain full of goblins, a pack of bloodthirsty orcs, and a realm full of wood elves. At least two of the three will try to seek revenge,” Holly replied. “I suppose we will have to prepare for that.”

Fíli nodded. “We’ll be ready.”

\---

“Thorin, you should eat something. Or at least rest a bit. You’ve been up all night.”

Bilbo’s request fell on deaf ears, however, and Thorin continued roaming throughout the mountains of gold, the metal clinking and sliding under his feet.

“There will be time for that later.” He had dressed himself in a deep blue robe and a crown, and looked the very image of a king, if a bit dusty. Or he would have, if not for his hunched shoulders and clouded eyes that were a bit too riveted on the surrounding gold. “We need to find the Arkenstone.”

“Well, you can’t exactly do that if you’ve dropped dead from exhaustion, can you?”

Thorin finally turned to look at him, and the foreign glint in his eyes made Bilbo’s heart drop. All at once, a long-forgotten conversation came back to him, something he had not meant to hear.

_ A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall? _

Elrond had known something about Thorin’s family. He had predicted that this would happen, and had tried to warn Gandalf back in Rivendell.

“Thorin, you look sick. You need rest,” Bilbo said. Perhaps that wouldn’t cure him, but it was a start.

“I will not give up so soon. The Arkenstone is my birthright. We  _ must _ find it.”

Bilbo gave a small huff of irritation. It was as if his words were going in one ear and right out the other. They had been in Erebor for less than a day and Thorin already seemed like a different person.

_ Can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall? _

Gandalf wasn’t here to help Thorin, so he would have to make do without him. If he could get them all to leave the mountain, and get as far away from the gold as possible, perhaps he could save him. 

He started for the upper halls to tell the others what he was going to do, but paused as a familiar voice reached his ears.

Someone—no, several someones—were calling out from near the entrance hall.

Bilbo felt a surge of relief. The group they had left in Laketown had survived. But panic swallowed his relief as soon as it had come. Fíli and Kíli were part of Durin’s line as well. He had to warn them before they could reach the gold. 

Bilbo sprinted in the direction of the voices. “Wait!” he said. “Wait! Stop!” He met them on the stairwell and skidded to a halt to avoid ramming straight into the group.

“Stop! You need to leave. We all need to leave.”

Bofur frowned. “But we only just got here.”

“I’ve tried talking to him, but he won’t listen—”

“What do you mean, laddie?” 

“ _ Thorin _ ,” Bilbo said, and almost paused to correct his tone, but there was no time to dwell on it. “He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats. He’s not been himself, not at all. It’s this place. I think a sickness lies upon it.”

“A sickness? What kind of sickness?” Kíli asked.

“Look, I don’t think you should—Fíli!” But the blond dwarf had already run past him down the staircase, toward the treasure halls. “Fíli!”

Bilbo ran back down the stairs after him, the others trailing behind him. “Fíli,  _ wait _ !” But he had already reached the hall. 

They all came to a halt on a balcony above the piles of gold. Fíli stood frozen as the others came to stand beside him. Bilbo watched his face with a mixture of concern and anxiety. He didn't know if he could handle two sick dwarves at once. But his eyes held none of the possessiveness that Thorin’s had. Instead he seemed...reluctant. Scared, almost.

He realized Fíli was staring at his uncle, who was still standing among the treasure.

Thorin looked up, taking in their small group. “ _ Gold _ ,” he said, his low voice carrying across the vast expanse of the hall. He spread his arms, gazing upon the vast shining piles. “Wealth beyond measure, beyond compare…” Without warning, he snatched up a jewel from a nearby pile and hurled it towards them, its gleaming redness singing through the air. Fíli caught it with both hands, eyes still riveted on his uncle. 

“Welcome, my sister-sons, to the kingdom of Erebor.”

With that, Thorin turned back to his gold, heedless of the disturbed stares he received. And if he heard the small clatter as the gem dropped to the floor, he did not acknowledge it.

They watched in silence as Thorin disappeared behind a pile of gold.

Bofur finally asked, “Where are the others?”

“They’re in the upper halls, trying to find somewhere for us to sleep,” Bilbo replied numbly. Meaning they were trying to find a room that  _ didn’t _ contain any skeletons of long-dead dwarves. “They should be up those stairs and to the left.”

The group turned to go, but before they could go too far Bilbo forced himself to ask the question that had been plaguing his thoughts since Smaug attacked Laketown.

“H-Have you seen Holly? Do you know if she’s all right?”

The others only frowned in confusion. “She was with us when we first got here,” Kíli replied. “Mahal knows where she’s gone off to now.”

Bilbo let out a small sigh of relief, worry fading into confusion. “She’s not hurt, then?” The dwarves exchanged uncertain glances. “Did something happen?”

“You’d best go talk to her, lad,” was all Bofur said, and it was all he needed to hear as he set off to find her.

Bilbo hadn’t the slightest idea why Holly would disappear like that. Though it was becoming more of a pattern as of late, now that he thought about it.

_ Perhaps she is simply avoiding you _ , a niggling voice suggested from the back of his head, but he pushed it away. Nothing good would come out of speculating like that.

And if she  _ was _ avoiding him...well, he would find out soon enough.

\---

Once they had reached the entrance to Erebor, Holly had let the others move past her, and they’d been too occupied with searching for the rest of the Company to notice. She’d wanted to see the others as well, but her exhaustion had finally triumphed and forced her to stop moving.

Now she stood in the entrance to Erebor, right in the center of the makeshift doorway Smaug had made for himself. She watched the dusty snow as it swirled around the plains between Erebor and Dale.

Bits of solidified gold were splashed across the floor, making a trail across the stone walkway at the entrance. Just looking at the substance made her skin tingle with the ghost of a burning sensation.

It was a bit like losing a tooth, Holly thought, when you kept probing that empty space in your mouth just to check if it was still there. She kept going back to the empty space in her head, checking and checking and checking—

“Holly?”

She turned, heart leaping into her throat. “Bilbo.” She was tempted to throw her arms around him, but the hesitation in his eyes was enough to make her pause. “I thought I’d never see you again.” She paused. “Sorry. That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it?”

“A bit, yeah.” But even as he said it the corner of Bilbo’s mouth twitched upwards and he closed the distance between them, reaching out to pull her into his arms.

Holly leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing her eyes shut.  _ I missed you, _ she wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, all right?”

Holly recalled everything she had said to him at the docks with a surge of guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, truly.” She was trying to think of a way to explain her actions without telling him the whole truth when he pulled away, confusion written on his features.

“What are you talking about?”

Holly paused. “What are  _ you _ talking about?”

“You could have died back there, in Laketown. I was afraid that I’d lost you.”

“Oh.” Holly had been dreading this moment, but once again Bilbo had surprised her with his concern and compassion. “So you’re not angry with me for what I said?”

“Oh, no, I am still a bit mad at you,” Bilbo replied, his stern tone making her flush. “But I’m also very glad that you’re alive.”

“So am I,” Holly replied with a half-hearted smirk. “And I am truly sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. This is all just...new to me, and I was overthinking things and I panicked and reacted badly. I’m sorry.”

Bilbo was studying her face with a furrowed brow. After a moment, he sighed and took a step back. “Look, I may not be a genius like you, but I'm not stupid either. I know you've been keeping something from me. From all of us.”

Of course he did. Because Bilbo was far too observant for his own good—and hers. Holly bit her lip. Telling him the truth was out of the question. Bilbo’s forgiveness would only go so far. “Later. I-I can't talk about it right now, but I’ll explain later.”

Holly could not blame the doubt in his eyes. “Promise me?”

“Yes.”

Bilbo gave her a grateful smile, and the one she returned tasted bitter with deceit. “All right. Let’s go find the others, shall we?”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

She felt a bit more herself now that she had talked to Bilbo, Holly realized as she put one hand over the strange, pulsing spot on her chest.

But perhaps that was because the only trait that truly belonged to her was cowardice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after this it get's pretty dark. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought.


	22. Holly Gives A Demonstration

**Chapter 22: Holly Gives A Demonstration**

 

Holly became acutely aware of the sheer emptiness of Erebor as she and Bilbo walked through its dusty stone halls, their footsteps echoing louder than they should have. There were too many empty windows, empty doorways, unlit torches… The place was a mere husk of what had once been a kingdom full of life.

She sighed as they passed another long-decayed skeleton. The dwarves that hadn’t been killed by the dragon must have starved, trapped in their own homes by fear of the dragon’s wrath. What would it be like, to waste away in a mere shadow of what had once been your entire life? To fade away surrounded by loss?

“Holly?”

“Hm?” She shook the dark train of thought from her mind. No sense in thinking about people that were long dead.

Bilbo gave her a tentative, concerned smile. “Coin for your thoughts?”

“Come on. My thoughts are worth much more than that.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, what with the  _ ridiculous _ amount of gold lying around here.”

“Oh?” Holly tried to sound innocent, as if she didn’t know  _ exactly _ how much gold lay within the mountain. “And how much is there?”

Bilbo frowned in contemplation. “Hmm...I’d say at least ten coins.”

Holly laughed. “I think you might be off by a couple hundred.”

This wasn’t so bad, she realized—the two of them talking and making jokes like...like normal people.

_ A mere imitation,  _ she had to remind herself. She didn’t  _ feel _ normal. 

“Really, though. There is far too much gold down there.”

“So you didn’t find the Arkenstone?” Holly asked before she could stop herself. She snapped her mouth shut. Of course he hadn’t found it. She’d seen what had happened. Smaug had been inches from killing Bilbo when he’d tried to grab it, and now it was lost again. 

Bilbo hesitated.

Holly shook her head, mentally berating herself. “Sorry. That was—”  _ Oh, this is awkward. _ “It doesn’t matter.”

She tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t end up embarrassing herself. Bilbo opened his mouth to say something, but they were both distracted by a cluster of voices coming from down the corridor. When they rounded the corner, Holly felt her heart lift at the sight of the dwarves. They were moving about the hall, busy with cleaning the rooms.

She ran forward to greet them. “Good to see you all alive.”

“Holly!”

Nori reached her first, pulling her into an embrace that lifted her off her feet a bit. She felt laughter bubbling up as she hugged him back. Even after such a short separation, she felt ecstatic at seeing them again. And they seemed rather pleased to see her as well. 

“It’s good to see you, lass.” Balin gave her a fond smile.

She grinned back at him.

_ You know, it wouldn’t kill you to actually deal with your problems for once. _

And the grin faded. Holly cast a glance back at Bilbo, remembering what she had promised. 

_ Liar. _

She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell any of them what had happened that night. They would all hate her if they knew she had almost destroyed everything they’d worked towards.

With Smaug’s death, she had lost a part of herself. She couldn’t lose her friends as well.

As the others went back to their business, she turned back to Nori. “What’s going on? Can I help?”

“We’re cleaning up the rooms in this hall so we’ll have somewhere to sleep. This used to be the place where visiting nobles stayed.” Nori motioned for her to follow him into one of the rooms. “We’ve, ah, gotten rid of most of the corpses. Now we’re just dusting everything off.”

Holly surveyed the room. It  _ was  _ rather dusty. A thick layer of the substance covered the dark wood of the four-poster bed, the dresser, the thick fabric of the bed sheets, and the fireplace. Papers were scattered on the desk, next to a quill standing in a long-dried inkpot. A wrinkled shirt hung over the back of one chair.

Whoever had lived here had been in the middle of their lives when Smaug attacked. And everything had been taken away from them.

“Bit depressing, isn’t it?” Nori said, watching her closely.

“Hm.” Holly shook herself from her thoughts, sliding under an impassive mask. She couldn’t afford to let this place weigh her down.

_ Weak, _ whispered the smirking voice in the back of her mind. 

She walked over to the bed and gathered up the comforter with a bit more force than necessary. “Let’s just get this place cleaned up,” she said through a cloud of dust. She brought the bundle of fabric down the hall to where Glóin and Bifur were shaking out the blankets over one of the balconies.

“Here.” Holly handed the comforter to Glóin.

He grunted in response, then did a double take. “Lass, did someone hit you?”

Holly froze mid-turn, one hand flying to the bruise on her chin. “I—no. I fell and hit my head.” 

Glóin didn’t look convinced. Bifur was still working but she could tell he was listening as well. “If there’s something you need to tell us—”

“I consider myself lucky I escaped Laketown with nothing more than a couple of bruises,” Holly said. She pushed a smile onto her face. “But I appreciate your concern.”

When she returned to the room, Nori raised his eyebrows. She ignored him. “ _ You _ look depressed,” he said.

“Leave it alone, Nori.” Holly brushed some dust from her sleeve. It clung to her fingers and left a similar feeling on the rest of her skin, like something  _ wrong _ was attached to her and she couldn’t quite brush all of it off.

“You just survived an attack from a dragon.”

“I know that, I was there.” Holly couldn’t stop the irrational anger swelling in her words. Her emotions had become disturbingly inconsistent. First she felt euphoric, and then unhappy, and now… “There is nothing wrong with me. I’m fine.”

“Holly—”

“Here. Want me to prove it?” She snatched up a pipe sitting on a small shelf. “A councilman’s hand-me-down pipe given to him by his father. Left handed, married into his position, and was suffering from some sort of sickness of the lungs before he died. He was also in correspondence with a man in Dale named Barahir.” She tried to keep her hand steady as she held up the object. “Look at the charring on the inside of the bowl. It’s only on the right because he goes to light it with his left hand. He holds it with his right so he can work with the proper hand. The quality is low—the wood is cheap and scratched in places and the finish is almost completely worn off. Obviously he could afford better, but he chose to use this one out of sentiment because it was given to him. Could be a friend or an uncle, but a father is more likely. Now, he clearly married someone to get such a high-end occupation because, once again, his father’s pipe is cheap and he must have had a low-income occupation.”

Now the trembling in her hand had reached her voice, but she pressed on, talking rapidly as she paced back and forth. “As for the sickness, he clearly stopped smoking for a while before his death. Why else would the pipe be lying on a shelf out of reach of his desk or his bed? Smoking would only irritate a sickness, hence the pipe’s position out of reach, so he would resist the temptation. And how, you might ask, could I possibly know about the correspondence? Because I saw one of the letters on his desk and skimmed over it and that’s not cheating, that’s observing, I use my senses, Nori, unlike  _ some _ people, so you see, I  _ am _ fine, in fact I’ve never been better, so there is  _ nothing  _ to talk about.  _ There is nothing wrong with me. _ ”

There was a sharp crack as she slammed the pipe back down on the shelf, glaring at nothing in particular. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. 

Nori held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Holly. Take it easy. I didn’t say anything was wrong with you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just—it’s—it’s the shock talking. I’m—Smaug, when he attacked Laketown—” She pressed her lips together. She needed to stop talking before she let something slip.

Nori walked over and put both hands on her shoulders. “Smaug is dead. You’re safe now, all right?”

She nodded, feeling a bit numb. All her anger had melted away. She felt a sharp curl of embarrassment take its place. Never before had her emotions been so  _ erratic _ . “What do I do?” she asked. “H-How do I fix this?”

Nori paused. “What do you need to fix?”

“I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

“Well, I suppose that can’t be helped.”

Holly looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Of course you’ve changed. You’ve grown a lot since the day I met you, and you’re stronger now than you were before. You’ll be able to handle this.”

It was a valid point. She  _ had _ changed, not just from the time of the dragon’s death, but from over half a year ago, when she had met the Company.

While the dragon had been lying dormant in the mountain, she had finally begun to connect with people. She had learned about compassion and friendship. Perhaps she hadn’t lost as much as she thought.

“I can handle this,” she said, measuring the words. It wouldn’t be easy, but she had practically come back from the dead. She could figure out whatever this was.

Nori raised an eyebrow. “Right you are. Took you a while to come to that conclusion.”

Holly grinned. “Shut up.”

Dori opened the door and poked his head in. “Are you two staying focused?” he asked.

Nori took his hands away and rolled his eyes. “What else would we be doing?”

Dori elected to leave with a warning frown instead of answering that question. Holly turned back to Nori, deciding she didn’t want to continue that line of thinking either. “He’s right. We should probably get back to work.” She went to go pick up the rest of the bed sheets. “And. Um. Thank you.” She didn’t feel better, exactly, but perhaps a bit more hopeful. 

Perhaps things would turn out all right in the end.

\---

Bilbo laughed in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“I am completely serious,” Holly said, lips twitching. “He was pretending to be his own daughter’s suitor so she wouldn’t end up marrying anyone. Quite a convoluted scheme, and he couldn’t even keep his secret in the end.”

They were sitting out on the front steps of Erebor, watching the moon make its slow ascent. The wind was biting and cold, but the halls were a little too dark and gloomy for the both of them.

“Minas Tirith sounds like an interesting place,” he said. “Do things like that happen often?”

“It’s a big city. You get that many people crowded in one place, and some strange things are bound to happen.” 

“I'll bet. Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.” 

Bilbo sighed. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” He pulled out one of the travel biscuits they'd gotten in Laketown and handed it to her. “Bofur told me you didn’t eat much on the way here.”

She had been too distracted to think about eating. “What’s the point of asking me if you’re going to give me food anyway?”

“Well, there are these things called manners, don’t know if you’ve heard of them…”

Holly grinned and shook her head. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” She turned her attention to the food Bilbo had given her. “Cram. I could never get used to this.” It was well suited for travel and could keep for a good while, but that also meant it was hard as a rock and just as flavorless. 

“Cram? Why is it called that?”

“Because that's what you have to do to get it into your mouth,” she said, taking a bite with a theatrical grimace. Bilbo laughed. 

“It's probably better off as ammo for Ori’s slight shot,” he said, and she giggled along with him. 

A gust of wind swept over the steps and Holly shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her body.

“Are you cold?”

Holly nodded. “A bit. It can get worse up here, though. Sometimes the lake freezes over. How is it in the Shire?”

“Oh, it hardly ever gets this cold,” Bilbo replied, with a half-smile, his gaze becoming distant.

“You miss it, don’t you?” 

Bilbo nodded. “But I suppose I’ll be heading back soon. The quest is practically over.”

“Right.” Holly lowered her gaze. She should have realized that he would have to leave eventually—there was no reason for him to stay. “I suppose that had to come up sooner or later.”

“Speaking of ‘later’...” Bilbo paused, seeing her stiffen. “When are you going to tell me what happened that night?”

“Nothing happened,” Holly said. “I was afraid the dragon was going to kill you all, and that I would never see you again, so I spoke without thinking.”

“And the bruise on your chin?”

“It was an accident. I slipped and fell.” Holly turned to look him in the eye, and saw in his gaze that he hadn’t believed a word. The disappointment in his eyes nearly made her flinch. She couldn’t continue to lie to him. “I-I can’t tell you what happened that night.”

“Why not?”

“You won’t trust me any more.” 

“Well, how am I supposed to trust you now if you can’t tell me anything?  _ This _ ,” he gestured between the two of them, ”is not going to work if we can’t be honest with each other.”

Holly was silent for a long time. This was the tipping point, she realized. Her decision would either end what they had started, or they could finally clear the air between them.

When she didn't speak, Bilbo asked, “Why don't you trust me? And I don't mean that as an accusation. I want to understand. What makes it so hard for you to trust me?”

“When I trust people, I know I'm lying to myself about what I expect to happen. I know I'm giving something I'm never going to get back.”

“Holly, I would never hurt you like that.”

She turned to face him, feeling miserable as she replied, “Even if I had done something to hurt you?”

Bilbo said nothing. Holly stood up and walked a short distance forward, resisting the urge to fidget with her coat sleeves again. The biting wind clipped against the lines of her face. She let it sting, hoping the chill would clear her head.

_ I care about him, so I can’t tell him what I did. _

_ I care about him, so I should tell him what I did. _

For a moment Holly felt like one of those silly barmaids, plucking flower petals to determine the future of her romantic life.

There was a disturbing lack of flowers in this barren wasteland. And damn it if she was going to destroy the trust of the one person that had cultivated a similar bloom of color in her life.

“Fine. Just remember you asked me to tell you all this. And do try to keep up—it’s not the most simple of stories.” Holly half-turned to face him, focusing her attention on the sharp angles of the stone steps.

She let it all spill forth: her real reason for traveling with the Company, what Elrond and Thranduil had revealed to her, the disturbing meeting with Damon, and her involvement with the dragon Smaug.

“The dragon sees everything that I do. Or used to. Th-That’s why I didn’t go to Erebor with the rest of you. Because he would know exactly where to find you and kill you.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

“Holly.” A long silence stretched out after her name. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s understandable,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bilbo looked up. “The dragon mentioned you,” he said. “When I was talking with him, he said—”

_ Do you really think  _ she _ could care for you? _

Holly nodded. “I know. I saw everything he did. And I was too weak to do anything about it. I sabotaged the whole quest. One of you could have died.” And before she could find a reason not to, she added, “I-I understand if you don’t want to...to talk to me after this. If I’d put a bit more thought into my actions this all could have been prevented.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bilbo stand up. “You think this is your fault?”

“Of course it is.” She brought one hand up to hastily wipe at her eyes. “ _ I _ caused all of this. I have every reason to blame myself.”

“No, you don't. You didn’t know about your connection to Smaug until recently, and you did everything in your power to make sure we all lived. And that’s all you could have done.” When Holly didn’t respond immediately, he stepped closer and brought his hand to her face, turning her head so she was facing him. “This isn’t your fault.”

Holly let out a small sigh, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders release. His reasoning was sound enough. Perhaps there was some truth to his words.

Bilbo gave her a soft smile, then turned his attention to the fading bruise on her jaw. He brushed his thumb over the spot. “Did Damon do this to you?”

“I got lucky. He’s still out there.”

“I promise, I won’t let him hurt you again.” He moved both hands to her back, pulling her close. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“I’ll be completely honest with you from now on.” Holly leaned into his touch. “I swear it.”

She would have to tell him eventually, though, the one truth he hadn’t figured out yet. 

_ You can’t protect me. _

Damon was waiting somewhere, and no doubt planning another twisted experiment. More likely than not, she would need to kill him, though she didn’t know how yet. There was that, and the battle, and everything else that they would have to endure before it was all over.  

But for now, she was content to linger in his arms and enjoy the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More deductions! As always, thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think.


	23. The Empty Kingdom

**Chapter 23: The Empty Kingdom**

 

Thorin sifted once more through the pile of gold, the coins and gems flowing through his fingers. The whole room still reeked of ash and the stinging scent of dragon. A strange, faint humming seemed to reverberate throughout the room. 

Smaug was dead. They had reclaimed Erebor. That thought alone should have relieved him of his anxiety. He should feel happy, even. But as he listened to the shadows in the corners of the room...

They were laughing at him. Sharp teeth and glinting eyes peered from the shadows, and they  _ laughed _ .

_ You have no right...no right to enter that mountain. _

Thorin turned his back on the mocking chatter. He had spent years doing so after the Battle of Azanulbizar, and it had almost become a habit. But the laughter did not stop. For a moment, he felt once again like the impoverished, nameless blacksmith in Ered Luin.

He was the rightful king of Erebor. They did not understand. He had his kingdom, his crown, his gold. Once he found the Arkenstone, he would return the mountain to its rightful glory.

_ And who are you to declare yourself king?  _ came the contemptuous reply.

“Thorin Oakenshield.” But now the name tasted like dirt on his tongue. How many times had that title been spat in contempt of the dishonored dwarf prince in command of a failing people? 

Thorin shook his head, eyes roving over the gold for the hundredth time that day. The chiming of the treasure helped calm his frayed nerves. He would use it to restore Erebor. Finally, he was king, and he could make things right.

The laughter continued.

_ I myself suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted burglary, or something of that ilk. _

Anger simmered under his skin. This treasure belonged to  _ him _ . It always had. He had claim over every precious gem, every gold coin. It was his birthright. His destiny. And he could not let the people of Laketown or the elves of Mirkwood take that away from him.

Reclaiming his home had only made everything that much clearer. Everyone who had wronged him deserved  _ nothing _ . They had no claim over his gold, though he had no doubt they would come flocking to his doorstep in time, sniveling for a share of  _ his _ treasure. He would not yield to them.

_ Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall. _

He had risen up beyond everyone’s expectations. Everyone who had tried to hold him back had been wrong. He had succeeded. His own determination and will had driven him, and—

_ The blind ambition of a mountain-king so riven by greed, he could not see beyond his own desire! _

Thorin tried to clear his pounding head, the light clinking of the gold escalating into a crashing roar. He needed to find the Arkenstone. Then they would recognize his right to rule, and all doubts would be dispelled.

With this thought in mind, Thorin made his way further into the treasure hoard, leaving the flickering light of the torches behind as he was swallowed by shadow.

\---

“Ow.” Holly cursed and brought her pricked thumb to her mouth, ignoring Dori’s disapproving frown at her language. She gestured to her work with her other hand. “How’s this?”

Dori inspected her progress. “Don’t make the stitches so far apart.”

“All right.” Holly moved to correct her mistake. Dori had taken it upon himself to teach her how to mend clothing after discovering that she didn’t know how. Holly didn’t see the need, but no one had offered to teach her before, so she’d accepted. She held up the tear in her coat that she was practicing on. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s much better.” Dori nodded.

Holly smiled to herself. She was still a bit drained from yesterday’s events, though getting some rest had helped her compose herself. She still felt occasional outbursts of sadness or frustration, but things like this helped cheer her up. 

Down the hall, she could hear Fíli and Kíli sparring, the clash of their weapons echoing off the stone walls. Kíli’s leg had healed and his limp was almost gone. Holly wondered if he would be able to fight in the battle, whenever that happened.

She was concerned for all of them. Fifteen against an army or two was a death sentence. Holly didn’t really count herself since she didn’t know how to fight. Even if they barricaded themselves inside the mountain, starvation would drive them out eventually. And that was assuming assassins didn’t get to them first.

“What are we going to do if someone attacks Erebor?” she asked. “Say Thranduil shows up with an army and demands tribute, or wants compensation because we broke out of his dungeon. What then?”

“Well I’d imagine we’d have to take some sort of diplomatic action,” Dori replied. “Though I doubt those pig-headed elves would listen to anything we’d have to say.”

Holly suppressed a smile. The dwarves’ grudge against elves amused her, though she would never tell them that. The whole thing was rather illogical—Thorin seemed to be the only one with a personal grievance against elves. Though after the events at Laketown, Kíli sometimes brought up the ‘not all elves’ argument. Everyone would counter this with a rather vehement  _ ‘yes _ , all elves’ and the topic would be dropped soon after.

“What if goblins or orcs attack? We can’t exactly negotiate with them, or fight them for that matter.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Dori said. “Thorin will know what to do. Hopefully.”

Holly tilted her head at the hesitation in his tone. “What do you mean? Is Thorin all right?” Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him at all since coming to Erebor.

“He’s...a bit preoccupied with finding the Arkenstone.”

_ I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad. _

Her hands went still. Thorin had to be suffering from the dragon sickness. She didn’t know exactly what the illness entailed, but there had to a reason people called it  _ dragon _ sickness. She knew the inner workings of a dragon’s mind better than anyone, had felt his greed and sadism and arrogance as though it had been her own. Thorin was strong-willed and noble, but even those qualities could be misdirected and twisted into something worse. He could end up hurting himself, or someone else.

“Well, we should put someone else in charge, then. Until we figure out what to do with Thorin,” she said.

Dori stared at her as though she’d suggested they put an elf on the throne of Erebor. “Why on earth would we do that?”

“Because he’s not well.” Holly didn’t see what was so hard to comprehend. “He’s not fit to be in charge. Balin, Fíli, perhaps even you would be able to handle this business more efficiently.”

“But he’s our king.”

“Yes.” It felt a bit like she was talking to a wall. “And he’s sick. What if he doesn’t get better?”

Dori put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, lass. I’m sure—”

“ _ Stop _ calling me lass,” Holly said, then lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—” Shame burned on her cheeks. “That wasn’t directed at you. Sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Dori said with a mild raise of his eyebrows. “And I’ll stop calling you lass if you want.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, the emotional high from her anger fizzling out. She would need to get that under control before she did something she regretted.

\---

Little by little, life was coming back to Erebor, Holly observed as she crossed one of its stone walkways. She made sure to stay as far away from the edge as possible. The kingdom had a lot of stairways and paths that crossed over deep chasms or went above other walkways, and none of them had barriers or railings on the sides. One wrong step could send a person to their death. This was supposed to be a  _ kingdom _ , not the wilds with treacherous cliffs and such. 

But everything was a little less dusty and they’d lit a multitude of braziers to ward off the chill and the darkness. Perhaps they would be able to fill this place with life again.

“Holly!”

She turned and waited for Bilbo to catch up to her. 

“I need to talk to you. I didn't get a chance to mention it last night, but—”

“Is this about Thorin?”

Bilbo nodded, his brows drawing together.

“Dori told me he’s been obsessed with finding the Arkenstone.”

“He’s sick. Not physically, but…”

“It doesn’t have to be physical to be serious.”

“How do we help him? The others don’t seem too keen on doing anything about it, but I thought you might have an idea.”

Holly knew well enough how the mind worked, but healing it was a different matter. But Bilbo needed her help, as did Thorin. She had to do what she could. “How has he been acting lately?”

“He’s become obsessed with finding the Arkenstone—he hardly focuses on anything else. I’ve been trying to convince him to take care of himself, but he hardly listens to me.”

“Then we just have to find the Arkenstone, right? Shouldn’t be that hard, since we know where to look,” she said, but Bilbo shook his head.

“I talked to Balin, and he said the Arkenstone would only make things worse.”

“Then we should find it anyway, before he does. Someone will stumble across it eventually.”

“Actually...” Bilbo paused and bit his lip. “I’ve already found it.”

“What? When?”

“When I first went into the treasure hall. I only just managed to slip away after I grabbed it.”

The dragon had hardly taken his eyes off of Bilbo that night. But just before Smaug had tried to incinerate him, Bilbo had vanished (that was another matter she would have to ask him about). That must have been when he’d taken it.

Bilbo glanced around to make sure they were alone, then reached into one of the inner pockets of the coat he had borrowed in Laketown and withdrew a stone about the size of his fist. Holly felt her breath catch in her throat. The Arkenstone glimmered in the dim torchlight, a swirl of starlight on the ripples of a lake. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

_ Snap out of it, _ she berated herself. There was no reason for her to become so enchanted by a mere stone.

“I was going to give it to Thorin,” Bilbo said. He slipped it back into his pocket. “But something seemed wrong when he asked me about it. And I suppose I was right.”

“Then we’ll have to come up with another solution.” The strange pulsing spot on her chest gave an uncomfortable twinge. “I’ll study his actions for myself, and see what I can draw from that.”

Bilbo nodded, giving her a grateful smile. “All right.”

She thought he looked a little worn out, like he had after two weeks in the Woodland Realm, so she clasped one of his hands in both of hers. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“I hope so.” Bilbo sighed, some of the tension in his shoulders seeming to disappear.

“We will.” They’d already faced down trolls and goblins and river rapids together, and at the moment, she felt a bit unstoppable.

He was giving her that small smile again, the same one he had worn that night in Laketown.

Holly returned the gesture. She felt abnormally warm. Never in her life had she predicted that she would become so emotionally invested in another person. Yet here she was, absorbed in a benign smile and the gentlest blue eyes she had ever known. Nothing this unexpected had ever happened to her before.

_ Though becoming so damned sentimental is a close second, _ she mused, her gaze flickering to his mouth. Her heart was racing, though she hadn’t exerted herself enough to cause such a reaction. Perhaps it was their proximity, seeing as she had mere inches required to close the gap between—

The sound of heavy footsteps caused her to withdraw. Holly clasped her hands behind her back as Dwalin rounded the corner. He raised an eyebrow upon seeing the two of them.

“Am I interrupting something, or—?”

“Um, no, we were just—”

“Not at all. In fact, we, ah…”

They shared an awkward glance before falling silent.

“Thorin needs us all at the front gate,” Dwalin said, electing not to continue his investigation. He turned to go without another word.

Holly couldn’t help but notice the stiffness in his actions. That is, more stiffness than usual. She should have expected as much. Dwalin was one of Thorin’s closest friends. Watching him deteriorate into madness...she couldn’t imagine how he must feel. 

“Come on. Let’s go see what he wants.” She sighed and made to follow Dwalin.

“Wait a moment.” Bilbo grasped her arm, making her stop and turn.

“What is it?” was what she meant to say, but it became rather impossible to get any words out as his lips pressed against hers.

Everything else seemed to fall away for a brief moment, and the only thing left was warm and soft and fitted perfectly against her. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but when they finally drifted open, the world seemed to spin, and she felt a bit light-headed.

_ Oh, I’m in far too deep, _ was the first complete thought she could assemble.

Not that she minded. Holly closed her eyes again and leaned in for another kiss.

\---

“Are you sure this is going to hold?” Holly crossed her arms, scrutinizing the makeshift wall constructed from pieces of rubble. It seemed rather sturdy, but without anything holding the pieces together, a few well-placed catapults could cause the whole thing to collapse.

Once Thorin had caught word that Mirkwood elves had joined the survivors from Laketown in Dale, he’d decided to repair the smashed entrance at once (Holly had considered calling it Smaug’s Hole, then decided that was a horrible name).

She’d been studying Thorin ever since they’d started construction. He seemed more aggressive and tense than before, and his attention span had shrunk to half its previous size. Not to mention he was making them build a wall in the middle of the night. Holly could see how Bilbo had concluded that something was wrong. 

Helping him would take a lot more than simply talking about his feelings.

“You underestimate the skill of dwarves when it comes to masonry,” Nori said, bringing her back to the present. “Nearly all dwarves know how to build something as basic as a wall.”

“Ah, yes. Walls: the most basic of structures,” Holly replied with a smirk. But the dwarves had done a decent job so far, interlocking the stone slabs so that there was little space in between.

“It’s really not that hard.” Nori passed another brick up to Bifur, who was standing on top of the structure. “After seeing that disaster you lot built on the lake, I'm surprised men know how to build anything.”

Before she could retort, a loud clatter sounded, making everyone jump. Kíli had dropped the wheelbarrow he’d been carrying and was glaring at Thorin. “The people of Laketown have nothing!” he said. “We should be offering them help, not barricading ourselves in here. They came to us in need—they have lost  _ everything _ .”

Thorin stared back, his eyes hard. “Do not tell me what they have lost. I know well enough of hardship.” He turned towards Dale, his normally stoic tone twisting into something less stable. “Those who have lived through dragon fire should rejoice! They have much to be grateful for.”

_ Oh, he really has lost it _ .

“Grateful?” Bofur said. “Is that what you call it? Those people are starving. That was Holly’s hometown that was burned to the ground.”

“Oh, please don’t bring me into this—”

“What would you do if she was out there with them?”

By now all of the dwarves had stopped working and were watching the argument unfold. Holly cast a wary glance at Thorin. She had never felt the same connection to him as with the other dwarves, possibly due to Smaug’s resentment affecting her own emotions. 

But now her thoughts were her own. This would be an ideal time to come to bridge that gap, to help him overcome the dragon sickness. Holly stepped forward and opened her mouth, but Thorin spoke first.

“This mountain was hard-won. I will not see it taken again by those who seek its riches.”

She let out a huff. “You didn’t even answer the question—”

Holly’s irritated protest was drowned out by several others. She shook her head as a full-blown argument escalated in the room.

Bilbo caught her eye from across the hall and gave her a look that seemed to say, _ You should probably get them to stop arguing. _

She frowned back.  _ Me? _

He raised his eyebrows.  _ You’ve done it before. _

Right. Back in Mirkwood, when she’d yelled and insulted all of them.

Holly turned back to the dwarves, unsure how she was supposed to get them to shut up without snapping. In such a large room, her voice wouldn’t be loud enough.

Thankfully, Thorin chose that moment to call for order, and his much more powerful voice managed to quiet them down.

He glared at all of them, his gaze scalding. “Would you question the decisions of your king?” he asked. “Would you so easily give up what we have worked for to the very people who sought to imprison us?”

“He’s right,” Holly said, ignoring the incredulous stares she received. “We have enough problems of our own without trying to aid an entire town. If nothing else, the people of Laketown know how to scrape by. They’ll manage without our help.”

“We have much work to do. I want this fortress safe by morning,” Thorin said. The dwarves went back to work in grudging silence. Holly made a face at Thorin’s back as he turned to lift more stone.  _ You’re welcome. _

Bilbo didn’t seem too grateful either as he went to stand by her side. “I didn’t expect you to agree with him.”

“Oh, I don’t. We’ll need to make an alliance with Dale eventually. But Thorin is paranoid enough without his friends arguing with him about everything. He’ll be easier to manage if he thinks he’s in charge. He doesn’t really need to be around for any real work to get done.”

“You mean to go work things out behind his back.”

Holly nodded. “For the moment. It’ll take a bit of the pressure off. Perhaps that will help him.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re manipulating him.”

“You asked for a solution, and I’m giving you one—”

“I know, I know.” He held up his hands to placate her. “And we’ll see if it works. But if things start going wrong, we’re trying something else.”

“All right. And I’m not trying to be manipulative.” His comment had stung more than she cared to admit. “I want to help him.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply anything like that.” Bilbo took her hand and squeezed it. “You’re a good person, Holly.”

She scratched the back of her neck, trying to dislodge the prickling feeling that had settled there. “I’m going to the library. I’ll see if I can find anything about dragon sickness there.”

He released her hand, fingers trailing over her skin. “Don’t stay down there too long.”

“I won’t.” She gave him a hesitant smile and left him to help the others.

Holly walked over to where Ori was sitting against the wall, scribbling furiously in his notebook. 

“Ori. Um, are you busy?” 

He looked up. “I was just catching up on my account of the quest. But I can work on that later.” He stood up, tucking his journal under his arm. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you could show me where the library is.”

“Oh, yes. This way.” They began walking away from the entrance.

“How is that going?” Holly asked as they passed through an archway and into a wide hall. “Your account?”

Ori shrugged one shoulder. “I’m a bit behind. I haven’t gotten the chance to write much since we escaped from Mirkwood.”

“I would like to read it once you’re done, if that’s all right with you.”

He blushed a little and said, “Y-Yes, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

When they reached the library, which lay behind a massive set of wood doors, Holly nearly gasped. While the library at Rivendell had been elegant and extensive, Erebor’s library was  _ massive _ . There were three floors, each lined with tall, full bookcases. The main hall, which had several branching alcoves, stretched on for a good hundred feet or so. There must have been tens of thousands of books in there.

“Looking for anything specific?” Ori asked.

“Well, I’d like to see if you have a Westron section, for starters,” Holly said, and reminded herself not to gape as she gazed at the rows of books. 

“I’m not sure where that is, but I can help you look.”

Holly sighed. It would likely take hours to find it, given the sheer number of shelves in the library. “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“No worries.” She noticed Ori was not heading farther into the library, but had walked over to a bare section of the wall, where a set of three large plaques hung. Each contained a list of Khuzdul words and a series of numbers next to it. Ori scanned it for a moment, then pointed to something on the second plaque. “Row nine, first floor. That’s where you’ll find the Westron section.”

Holly walked next to him and studied the columns of words and numbers. “Whoever designed this library was much smarter than the person who built the one in Minas Tirith.”

Ori turned to look at her. “How was that one organized?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t. It was a nightmare to try and find anything.”

“Then you’ll have a much easier time here finding the book you need. What are you looking for, again?”

“I...I’m looking for information about dragon sickness. To try and help Thorin.”

Ori nodded, his expression growing sober. “Good luck, then. You can always ask me if you need any more help.”

Holly smiled. “Thank you. And—And I want to apologize, for the way I treated you when we first met.”

He shrugged, cheeks growing red again. “That was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t excuse the way I was acting. You were trying to make me feel welcome, and I...well, I was being a bitch. And I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” The earnestness in his eyes made it feel as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “And you don't have to keep it all to yourself.”

“Keep what to myself?”

“I don't know. But you look sad when you think nobody can see you.”

“You can see me.”

Ori shrugged. “I don't count.”

“You do. It just took me a while to realize it.” Holly gave him a tentative smile, hoping he wouldn't press the issue of what she was hiding. “Thank you for helping me.”

Ori nodded. “I should probably get back to the others now. I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” Holly waited until he had exited the library, then let out a long breath. 

Once she had been destructive and spiteful, but she realized now that she was capable of healing and kindness. It was long past time for her to start mending relationships. And her next step lay in helping Thorin.

It was with a newfound vigor and a high-held head that she made her way into the dust and shadows of the library.

\---

_ The delicate sound of coin on coin woke him from a decades-long slumber. Smaug lifted his head, a snarl pulling his teeth back. It had been many years since a man had come to challenge his might. _

_ “You are brave to come into my kingdom, alone and unarmed.” Smaug rose into a crouch as he spotted the dark-haired man standing farther down the hall. “Either that, or very, very foolish.” _

_ “I come in peace, dragon.” The man raised his hands in surrender. “And with an offering.” _

_ The dragon rose and made his way down the treasure horde until he was towering over the man. “And what could you offer me, that I do not already own?” With a sweep of his head, he indicated the vast piles of gold and gems in the hall. _

_ The man grinned. He was certainly foolish, Smaug, thought, it he was amused by his current situation. “What I’m offering you isn’t in this mountain. In fact, my gift to you is larger and greater than the whole sum of the treasure you keep.” _

_ In spite of himself, Smaug leaned his head closer to the man. “What is this gift you speak of?” _

_ “The outside. I can show you all of it, every place you’ve wanted to see, and you won’t ever have to set foot outside of the mountain.” _

_ Smaug tilted his head, scrutinizing the man. Now that he was closer, he could sense a dark aura radiating from the man. This was no ordinary conjurer. _

_ The man spread his arms. “Come on. Certainly it gets boring in here, napping for decades on end?” _

_ He let out a puffing breath, letting the sulfurous heat wash over the man’s body. “You are expecting something in return.” _

_ “Not much at all.” He reached into his coat and withdrew a shining crystal vial. “Only a little bit of your blood.” _

“Holly? Holly, wake up.”

She jerked into a sitting position, the pages of the book in front of her rustling as they became unstuck from her face. “Bilbo?”

“I’m right here. Are you alright?”

Holly turned to see him standing beside her, one hand on her shoulder. “Yes. Just a...strange dream.” Another vision of the gold—she didn’t remember much beyond that. She rested her elbows on the table in front of her and scrubbed her face with both hands. “What time is it?” Keeping track of time while living inside a mountain was impossible.

“It’s late. You should get some rest.”

Holly thought about that for a moment. “You woke me up to tell me to get some sleep?”

“In a bed,” he said as Holly stood up and stretched. She sighed at the loud popping noises the motion elicited. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

“Or I could just thank you now,” she replied, giving him a kiss.

“Oh. Or that.” He blushed, and Holly felt something like euphoria bubble up in her stomach.

They stood in silence for a moment, smiling at each other. This was nice, Holly thought. A bit strange, but nice.

Bilbo cleared his throat. “So, did you find anything?”

Books. Library. Right. “Nothing useful.” She sighed, turning back to the array of books on the desk. “Their Westron books are mostly about other cultures or the general history of Middle Earth. Perhaps they have more pertinent information in the Khuzdul books, but I’ve never had the chance to learn the language.”

“Ask one of the dwarves to teach you, then.”

She frowned. “Dwarves are very secretive about their culture, especially their language. I’m not sure if they would.”

“You’ve proven yourself to be trustworthy already. And it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Mm. I suppose you’re right.” She began stacking the books. “What do you think of the library?”

“It’s amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in one place.”  

“I definitely haven’t. This place is certainly worth exploring when I have the time.” She yawned again, bringing one hand up to cover her mouth.

Bilbo smiled. “Come on. We should get some rest.”

“I’ll be along shortly.” Holly gathered up one pile of books and started placing them back on the shelf. “I just have to put these away.”

“Oh. Um. All right.” 

After a moment, she could hear his receding footsteps. It took her a few minutes to realize that she’d all but dismissed him, and he’d probably wanted to walk back with her.

_ Idiot _ .

Once she finished and began heading back to the rooms, she wished she had asked him to wait. Erebor was a bit too silent, and the flickering braziers cast jumping shadows that kept her on edge.

Holly winced. The pulsing feeling in her chest had grown uncomfortably hot. Perhaps she should ask Óin about it.

A sudden scraping noise made her start. She could almost imagine Smaug slithering through the halls.

_ The dragon is dead, _ Holly reminded herself.  _ He won’t be bothering anyone ever again. _

The scraping sound came again—the harsh noise of steel on stone. And it was getting closer, accompanied by heavy footsteps. Holly froze as a rumbling voice echoed through the hall.

“Oh, don’t tell me you really thought I was gone.”

With dread crawling up her spine, Holly turned and came face to face with the sneering countenance of a certain golden-eyed dragon.

“Well, did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try so hard to get Thorin's character right, so I hope I did him justice. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think.


	24. Gold Blaze

**Chapter 24: Gold Blaze**

 

“No.” Holly backed away, heart pounding. “No. You’re not real.”

“How very astute of you.” Smaug leered, lifting his head so that he towered above her. She noted that despite his height, he was much smaller than his original size. “No matter, though. My time will come.”

Holly squeezed her eyes shut. _I’m seeing things._ _This is simply a combination of sleep deprivation and stress. Once I open my eyes he will be gone. I am not. Going. Insane._

“Insanity? An inevitable result, I assure you. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long. I’ll enjoy seeing how much more it takes for you to  _ break _ .”

“Get out of my head,” she demanded, but it came out more like a plea. “You’re  _ dead _ . Leave me alone.”

“Dead? Not quite.” Smaug ran his claws along the stone floor. The scraping noise made her wince. “‘Not while you still draw breath.”

“No, no,  _ no _ .” Holly gripped the sides of her head, fingernails digging into her scalp. “ _ I saw you die _ . I felt it.”

“Mmm...don’t be so  _ dull _ . You couldn’t have clawed your way from the brink of death if I hadn’t let you.”

“ _ No _ ,” Holly gasped out again. There were only two possible explanations for what was happening to her—either Smaug’s soul had managed to survive in her body, or she was going insane. “No, shut up!”

“Holly?”

The new voice made her start, and she turned around in time to see Dori rounding the corner.

“Who are you talking to?”

“I was—” Holly turned back around. Smaug was gone. She turned to face Dori, heart pounding. “I got lost. And then I started hearing whispers, or something. Do you think this place is haunted? I think it may be haunted,” she said. Dori was rather superstitious, so hopefully he would believe her.

He was still giving her a suspicious frown, but he said nothing more on the topic. “It’s nearly midnight. Let’s get you on to bed.”

Holly nodded numbly and began walking with him back to the rooms. She tried to focus on the rhythm of their footsteps echoing against the stone, hoping the steady  _ tap tap _ would help her nerves.

“And, ah, if there are any ghosts…” Dori said, “Well, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” He placed a reassuring hand on her back. Holly took a small amount of comfort in the gesture, despite the ambiguity of his reassurance. She could always count on Dori to at least provide that.

_ I’m sure he would be less than comforting if he knew what sort of liars were crawling about in this mountain,  _ a voice hissed from the shadows.  _ I can think of one, maybe two. _

Holly had to clamp her mouth shut to avoid lashing out at the voice. She could feel her hands shaking and shoved them in her pockets. By the time they reached the bedrooms her vision was blurry with wavering tears.

“You sleep as long as you need, and make sure to eat something when you wake up,” Dori said as she pushed open the door.

“I will, da,” Holly said, her verbal slip going unnoticed as she walked into her room and closed the door behind her. 

She stood in the dark for a moment, head spinning. There was something else in the room with her. Or perhaps she  _ was _ going insane. The corners of the room stayed silent, but the pulsing spot in her chest still maintained its burning heat.

Holly didn’t have the energy to address that at the moment, and it was all she could do to stumble over to the bed and lie down.

Eventually the pounding of her heart and the sensation of wetness on her face receded into oblivion as she slipped into a fearful, dreamless sleep.

\---

Piles of gold stretched on as far as Holly could see, catching the light from the braziers and throwing it back in brilliant waves. It was rather fascinating to watch the red-orange light play off the treasure, and she wondered why she hadn’t bothered to come here before. Though this was the first time she had physically stood in the treasury, the whole place felt disturbingly familiar.

Something like jealousy twisted in her gut. The Company  _ owned _ all of this gold—even divided between fourteen it would be enough to ensure that none of them ever went hungry again.

A small movement drew her attention further down the hall. She caught a glimpse of dark hair before it disappeared behind a mound of gold.

As if she were moving in a dream, Holly made her way down into the treasure hall, slipping several times on the coins and jewels. After more of a struggle than she’d expected, she found Thorin sifting through the treasure. He must have heard her approach, but made no move to acknowledge her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. 

Thorin fixed her with a cool stare in return. “I could ask the same of you.”

Holly shrugged. “I suppose you could.” She nudged a few of the coins with one foot, watching them slide and glint. “Where are the others? They should be awake already.”

“I do not know,” Thorin replied, his attention back on the gold.

Holly hesitated a moment, then picked up one of the coins. Each bore the profile of a dwarf wearing a crown. “Is this your grandfather?”

“Yes. He was the one to find the Arkenstone, originally.”

So he was still after that rock. “Hmm.” She held up the coin and compared it to Thorin’s visage. There was definitely a similarity. She hesitated for a moment, then forced herself to drop the coin back into the pile instead of slipping it into her pocket. “As in, he dug it out of the earth himself, or he was ruling at the time?”

“He was ruling at the time. But he took it as a sign of his divine right to rule.” He turned, his eyes boring into hers. Holly had to put a good amount of willpower into holding eye contact with him. “That is why I must find it.” He stepped closer. “Help me find it.”

“Me?”

“You could. Out of all of us, you are the sharpest—”

“I eliminate the impossible, and whatever is left has to be true. I’m not sure if that applies to finding one stone in  _ square miles _ of treasure.” But giving Thorin at least a bit of hope that he could find Arkenstone might throw off any suspicion that would endanger Bilbo. Perhaps she could even take this chance to convince him that he didn’t need the Arkenstone. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. Do you have an approximate location of where it was seen last?”

Thorin nodded. “This way.”

\---

Gold really was irritating to walk on. Every step sent her foot sliding across the smooth metal, making it difficult to keep her balance. It had been hours since she had woken and several logical-but-ultimately-unhelpful deductions had led the two of them in circles across the treasure.

She was stalling. Confronting Thorin about the Arkenstone was less than appealing because she didn’t know how unstable he was. He was intimidating enough when he was sane. 

The burning sensation in her chest hadn’t lessened in intensity at all. It had been that way since she had hallucinated the previous night, but Holly saw no use in dwelling on it. She had nothing to research—having one’s soul bonded with a dragon’s was far from common. It was entirely possible that the vision of Smaug had been an isolated incident.

“This is of no use,” Thorin said, breaking her from her thoughts. “The Arkenstone must not be in here.”

Holly did not look up from the gold. “You realize we’ve only covered a fraction of the treasure in here, yes?” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “Where else would it be?”

He turned to her with the same intense, meaningful stare. “Perhaps it has already been found.”

She finally turned to face him and let out a stuttering, exasperated sigh. “If it had already been found, you would have it. We’re all trying our best to help, Thorin. I don’t see why you need it so badly, anyway.”

Thorin glared. “It is my  _ birthright _ .”

“Your birthright is this kingdom. You undertook the quest because you wanted to help your people. One rock isn't going to do much for your cause.”

That seemed a sensible enough answer, but Thorin suddenly changed the topic. “Why are you here? It was not in our agreement that you would come with us to the mountain.”

The suspicion in his eyes made her stomach drop. “I-I came to help my friends. And I needed a place to stay. In case you haven’t noticed, my hometown is currently in pieces at the bottom of a lake.”

A small metallic noise caused both of them to turn. Holly relaxed a little when she saw Bilbo climbing up to them, struggling a bit over the slippery coins.

“You two are up early.” He smiled at her as he came to stand beside them. Thorin nodded in greeting, thankfully letting the subject drop.

“Not really,” Holly said. “We’ve been up for hours. You’ve all been sleeping rather late.”

Bilbo’s smile turned into a confused frown. “But the sun’s just risen. It’s only seven or eight in the morning.”

“Is it?” Holly blinked. She hadn’t bothered to check what time it was when she’d woke.

Bilbo stared, eyes widening in disbelief. “You’ve both been awake this whole time?”

Holly lowered her gaze, feeling irrationally guilty. 

Thorin didn’t even blink, striding forward to leave the hall. “There is still much to be done. We will need to arm ourselves, and set up defenses on the wall. I cannot yield to them.” He seemed to be speaking to himself.

“Arm ourselves for what, exactly?” Bilbo asked, but he was ignored. “ _ Thorin _ .”

Something in his tone made Thorin pause for a moment. He turned back around, his gaze focused and attentive, as if he truly wanted to hear what Bilbo had to say.

Bilbo faltered for a moment, surprised at his reaction. “Look, I—”

“Thorin!” A new voice sounded from further down the hall. Bombur came up towards them, climbing the gold mound with difficulty. “That Bard fellow from Laketown is at the wall,” he said once he had caught his breath. “He says he wants to speak with you.”

“Call everyone to the gate.” Thorin doubled his pace through the treasure. “And tell Kíli to grab his bow.”

Bilbo stared after Thorin’s retreating figure, worry evident in his eyes. Holly glanced at Thorin, then back at Bilbo. For a moment, Thorin had almost looked like his old self, as though Bilbo’s voice had brought him back to reality.  _ Interesting. _

Bilbo turned and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“What?”

“You’re making that face you do when you’re thinking.”

“I’m always thinking,” Holly said. “And I believe you may be onto something.”

“Me?”

“I’ll tell you when I have more information. But I think we may be able to fix this.” She looked down at the treasure again.

“And help Thorin?”

Holly nodded. “Possibly.” 

“That’s good news. Come on, let’s go see what Bard wants.” Bilbo turned to leave the treasure hall.

“Right.” She found herself distracted again, eyes roaming over the piles of gold. She didn’t really want to leave. It was strangely pleasant, to be surrounded by such a large amount of wealth.

“Holly.” Bilbo slipped his hand into hers, making her tear her gaze away from the gold. He seemed to be searching her face for something, and after a moment, he said, “Stay focused, all right?”

“I am,” she said as she let him lead her out of the hall. Bilbo was right, though—she could not let herself get distracted by something so irrational. There was no use wanting something she couldn’t have.

_ Oh, but you do want it, don’t you?  _ A tiny voice hissed in the back of her mind.  _ Why not take what you desire? _

She shook the intrusive thought from her head and hurried to leave the gold behind.

\---

Thorin was pleased to find that the wall had held up overnight. It was sturdy under his feet as he stood on top of it, gazing over the makeshift battlements at a certain bargeman.

His satisfaction was dulled by rage, however. He had known the people of Laketown would seek out his fortune. And the fact that they had sent the traitor Bard—the man who had turned on him and tried to have him imprisoned—incensed him further.

“Hail Thorin, son of Thrain. We are glad to find you alive beyond hope,” Bard called up from his position at the base of the wall.

_ Beyond hope...  _ So the men of Laketown had been expecting the demise of his Company. They had all but sent them to their deaths without so much as batting an eye, all on the foolish hope that Erebor’s wealth would became open to their coffers once more.

And now, having armed themselves and struck an alliance with the Mirkwood elves, they had come to take his treasure.

Thorin glared down at Bard. “Why do you come to the gates of the King under the Mountain armed for war?”

“Why does the King under the Mountain fence himself in, like a robber in his hole?” Bard said.

“Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed.” He was no thief. The gold belonged to him, and him alone.

“My lord, we have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?”

_ Fair settlement...  _ He doubted it.

But talking with the man would do no harm. It was what any king would do.

Thorin climbed down the wall to a narrow gap near the base, letting his voice carry through so Bard knew where he was.

“I am listening.”

A deep breath echoed from the other end. “On behalf of the people of Laketown, I ask that you honor your pledge. A share of the treasure, so that they may rebuild their lives.”

“I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies at my door.” It irked him that they begged him for a means of livelihood with a sword pointed at his throat.

“That armed host will attack this mountain if we do not come to terms.”

“Your threats do not sway me.”

“And what of your conscience?”

Thorin locked eyes with the man through the gap in the stone. Bard’s gaze was pleading, glinting with a desperation that was all too familiar. He had seen it before in the eyes of his own kin, when they had been cast out in the wilds after the attack on Erebor. Perhaps Bard truly meant to save his people.

“Does your conscience not tell you that our cause is just? My people offered you help,  and in return you brought upon them only ruin and death.”

“When did the men of Laketown come to our aid but for the promise of rich reward?” The words left his mouth in a serpentine snarl.

“A bargain was struck!”

“A bargain?” Thorin spat, the disbelief in his voice clouded with rage. “What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade? Tell me, why should I honor such terms?”

“Because you gave us your word. Does that mean nothing?”

Thorin moved away from the gap, leaning his back against the wall. What did his word mean to a group of thieves? 

“Begone!” He turned back to the wall. “Ere our arrows fly!”

He heard the angry scuff of the man’s fist on the stone wall, and then he was gone.

Thorin turned back to the Company, a small measure of grim satisfaction loosening the tension in his brow, only to have Bilbo march up to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “You cannot go to war.”

Of course he would not know about such matters, coming from such a sheltered life. “This does not concern you,” Thorin said.

“Excuse me, but just in case you haven’t noticed, there is an army of elves out there, not to mention several hundred angry fishermen. We are, in fact, outnumbered.”

“Not for much longer.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Master Baggins…” Thorin stepped closer to him, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You should never underestimate dwarves.” He turned to the rest of the Company. “We have reclaimed Erebor. Now we defend it.”

\---

“What does he think he’s doing? We can’t possibly win this. How does he not see that?”

“Bilbo.” Holly sighed. They were standing on the wall, and he had been ranting about Thorin for a good ten minutes or so, pacing back and forth.

“How can think this is a good idea?”

“Listen.” She stepped in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders, halting his movements. “Thorin may be a bit unstable, but he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t make a threat like that unless it had some sort of weight. Most likely he’s called for reinforcements from one of the other dwarf kingdoms. I know there’s one not too far to the east. Or they have some sort of secret weapon that can raze a city. Probably the former, though.” She shook her head, refocusing her train of thought. “The point is, you shouldn’t worry so much. None of us are going down without a fight.”

Bilbo sighed. “You’re right. I suppose I’m just letting off steam.” He turned towards the inside of the mountain, where the others had retreated. “I know Thorin, though. If he was in his right mind, he would never do something like this.”

Holly’s voice caught in her throat. Seeing Thorin like this must be a terrible weight on his shoulders. And it was for his benefit that she was trying to find a solution. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Thorin, but what was really driving her to help him recover was her concern for Bilbo.

Even as she came to terms with this, Holly couldn’t help but wonder if something else was causing her lack of concern for Thorin.

_ No _ . Smaug was dead. He had no sway over her thoughts any more.

“I could try negotiating with Bard,” she said. “I’ll convince him to stand down and make peace with us.” She looked out over the plains towards Dale. Bard was rather predictable, and it would be easy to persuade him—to manipulate him. She had always been good at it, and had never had any qualms about doing it before, but now the thought made her uneasy.

“Are you sure Thorin would let you do something like that?” Bilbo asked.

“He doesn’t need to know. Perhaps I can visit Dale today—it’s rather early anyway.” She began walking, head spinning with ideas.

“Perhaps you should get some rest first.” Bilbo fell into stride next to her. “You look like you’ve gotten about an hour of sleep. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”

“I’ve been told that’s a permanent fixture on my face. I’m fine, really. You remember that night when the dwarves got kidnapped by trolls, and then we had to run all the way to Rivendell?”

Bilbo let out a small laugh. “I do. That already seems like such a long time ago.”

“I didn’t sleep for about thirty six hours during those couple of days. And I felt fine. My vision started doing funny things after a while, but I handled it.”

“I don’t think your vision doing funny things counts as handling—”

Holly stopped walking and rounded on him. “I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”

Bilbo seemed taken aback with her change of tone, then his expression went blank and he began walking in the other direction. “Fine. Eru knows I don’t need to be looking after two crazy people at the same time.”

“You…” The scathing reply died on her tongue. “You think I’m crazy?” 

Bilbo sighed turned back to her. “Look, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right.” Holly suddenly found it hard to breathe. “I am going insane.”

Bilbo blinked. “What?”

Holly swallowed hard, forcing herself to regain control. “Last night, I started s-seeing things. I saw Smaug and he claimed that he wasn’t quite dead yet and now I’m beginning to think that he’s not entirely out of my head and he’s going to come back and hurt someone and I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to do anything about it and Damon is still out there and quite capable of hurting someone as well. I don’t feel like the same person anymore and I sometimes wonder if I was even a person to begin with.” It took several attempts for her to draw in a full breath. “That is...an adequate summary. And I wouldn’t prefer to go into detail.”

“Holly.” Bilbo moved over to her, speaking softly. For a moment he seemed to be searching for something to say, before finally settling on, “I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix this.”

And that was the problem, Holly realized. Bilbo was right—he couldn’t possibly juggle hers and Thorin’s mental problems at the same time. She would need to take matters into her own hands.

“I won’t ask you to,” she replied. “I...I’ll try to take better care of myself from now on. You focus on Thorin. He needs help more than I do. I’ll find a solution for my own problems.”

Bilbo took a moment to consider this, then nodded. “All right.”

Holly hesitated, then held her arms out. She let out a small sigh when he stepped into the embrace. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.” She rested her head against his.

She could feel the small vibration of his half-laugh. “I think we’re even.”

“Well, let’s not make this an ongoing competition.” Holly closed her eyes, drawing comfort from the warmth of his body. Insane or not, she couldn’t deny how secure she felt in Bilbo’s presence.

A battle was on the horizon. There was a good chance that Damon would confront her again. And on top of that, she would have to juggle her strange hallucinations and the threat of the gold sickness.

But despite the challenges ahead, Holly vowed to fight with everything she had to protect the people she had grown to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think.


	25. The Unsuccessful Treaty

**Chapter 25: The Unsuccessful Treaty**

 

The air on the wall was cold and heavy, as though it carried tidings of darker things to come. Yet the thrill of trepidation that ran down her spine seemed to bite deeper than the chill. Trying to convince Thorin, Bard, and Thranduil to come to an agreement seemed comparable to an incident in her childhood when she had tried to collect three runaway cats as a favor to one of the townspeople. Carrying all three of them back at once had seemed like a good idea at the time. If she failed the task before her, the outcome of that fiasco would pale in comparison.

Holly shook her head.  _ No. _ She would find a way to fix this. 

She jumped a little at the feeling of a hand on the small of her back, then relaxed when she realized whom it belonged to.

“Did you sleep well?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, actually,” she replied. “I feel less…”  _ Insane.  _ “I feel well.”

“Good,” Bilbo said. “Listen, about what happened this morning—”

“I was being an idiot. I was tired and stressed, and I overreacted. I know that I was seeing things, but Smaug is dead. He can’t hurt anyone anymore. Physically, that is.” She wasn’t sure how much damage he’d done in other regards. “I’ll find a way to fix it.” Though she didn’t want to just wait for Gandalf to show up and give her answers. The last time she had waited for someone else to solve her problems, she’d spent too long in the dark and her friends had almost died as a result. “Well, there is one person who would be able to give me the information I need.”

“No,” Bilbo said, realizing who she was referring to. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”

“Yes, and I couldn’t possibly imagine being in danger,” Holly said, then added, “I suppose you’re right.” Though she wasn’t sure if the risk of confronting Damon again outweighed the consequences of ignoring her problems. She didn’t want to put the Company in danger again. “Perhaps Gandalf will be able to help, if he ever shows up.”

“Right.” Bilbo nodded, gazing out over the desolation before them with a crease in his brow.

“How are you?”

“Tired,” he said, and she knew it wasn’t a simple matter of getting enough sleep. “I’ll be glad when this is all over.”

“Let’s speed up the process, then.” Holly strode over to where a rope was coiled off to the side, with one end tied to a post. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than a couple of hours. While I’m away it would be very helpful if you could knot the rope at intervals so I’ll have an easier time climbing back u—”

“What are you doing?”

Biting back a sigh, Holly turned to face Thorin as he approached the two of them. How had he managed to sneak up on them in his heavy armor? Clouded eyes darted from Bilbo to Holly to the rope in her hands, then over to Dale. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Holly spoke before he could voice his suspicions.

“I’m going to Dale.” Honesty was the most logical path to take if she wanted to keep herself trustworthy in his eyes. “I’m going to try and settle an agreement that won’t result in both parties trying to kill each other.”

“You would offer them a share of the treasure?” Thorin asked.

“That’s not what I said,” Holly replied, then reined in her irritation. “I plan on convincing them that they can’t get what they want through violence. What if Erebor needs Dale’s allegiance in the future?”

“We do not need anything from them.”

“Not at the moment. But what about when you start rebuilding the kingdom? Where will you get the food and other supplies necessary to provide for the refugees coming from the Blue Mountains? Dale lies right at Erebor’s doorstep—commerce between the two would be a bit awkward if we end up warring with each other.”

Thorin paused, and Holly held her breath.

“And what of the Mirkwood elves?”

“They have no business here,” she said. “And you’re the lord of these lands. I’ll convince them to leave.”

“I  _ am _ the lord of these lands,” Thorin said, still glaring. “And I will not be told how to rule it by a peasant woman.”

“ _ Thorin _ ,” Bilbo said, but neither of them turned to look at him.

“Of course.” Holly nodded, nails biting into her palms to restrain her irritation. “Your judgement has never led us astray. I’ll obey whatever course of action you think is best.” Validating Thorin’s power and position seemed to be the best option in keeping him receptive  to her ideas. She took a deep breath and added, “I’m on your side, Thorin. I may be human, but I would trust all of you with my life. I hope you will extend the same sentiment towards me.” 

Thorin held her gaze with darkened eyes, considering her words. Eventually he said, “Offer them nothing. Once you are done, return immediately.”

“I won’t let you down,” Holly said as he turned on his heel and retreated back into the mountain. That, at least, was a genuine statement.

“How did you do that?” Bilbo asked once the sound of Thorin’s footsteps had been overtaken by the whistling of the wind. “So far he hasn’t listened to anyone, let alone agree with them, and you just—”

“I simply suggested an idea and let him make up his mind,” Holly replied. “After all, you can’t kill an idea, can you? Not once it’s made a home…” She tapped one finger in the center of his forehead. “Here.”

_ Manipulative, _ hissed a familiar voice. Holly felt the slightest tremor pass through her fingertips. 

Bilbo seemed not to have noticed. “Well, you certainly have a way with words.”

Holly smiled. “Right. Well, I’d better get going before Thorin changes his mind.” She took the rope and tossed it over the wall. “I’ll be back s—oh.” 

“What’s wrong?” Bilbo moved next to her and peered down over the edge of the wall. “You’re afraid of heights?”

“It’s not so much the height as falling. I’m not eager to crack my skull open if I slip.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t go, then. If this is going to be too much for you—”

She scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She’d faced down stone giants, bloodthirsty orcs, and man-eating spiders. She  _ should _ be able to climb down a wall with relative ease. In theory. Holly gripped the rope, heart thumping in her chest.  _ Right. Face your fears. _

“Really, if you’re not up to it—” 

“You have little faith,” Holly said. She swung her legs over the wall and a wave of dizziness whirled through her head. 

“Holly.” 

“No, I can do this.” She began to climb down. Her sweaty palms slipped on the rope several times, and when her feet finally touched the ground, she had to brace herself on the wall to keep from collapsing. When she looked up, Bilbo was smirking down at her.

“See? I knew you could do it.”

Holly felt a grin stretching over her face and she gave a trembling laugh. “It seems you have a way with words yourself.” As she gazed up at him, she felt something rise in her chest, something new and light. “I—” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, or if she could even put it into words. “I’ll see you. Later.”

“See you.”

Holly released her grip on the rope and flexed her fingers to regain feeling in them. She was not looking forward to climbing back up. The chilly wind had picked up again, and as she turned in the direction of Dale, her euphoria began to fade.

She steeled herself and began the trek toward the ruined city.

\---

Holly realized that she would not have any trouble convincing anyone of anything, seeing as she couldn’t get into the actual city in the first place. The elven guards posted at the entrance were adamant about keeping her out, despite her protests.

“We have orders to keep anyone from entering the city.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that already. And if you’d bothered to consider what you’re doing instead of following your orders like mindless trolls, you’d realize that this particular piece of instruction was meant to keep  _ dwarves _ out. I am not a dwarf.” 

The two guards exchanged a wary, half-confused glance.

“If you’re not a dwarf, then why have you come from Erebor?” the second elf spoke up. “If you are in league with them then we cannot let you in.”

Holly sighed, more insults boiling on the tip of her tongue, but another voice sounded from behind the guards.

“No need to worry—she is with me.”

“Gandalf,” Holly said as the gray wizard stepped into view. After a pause, the two guards stepped aside and she brushed past them. “You finally decided to show up.”

“I was delayed.”

Holly didn’t doubt it. Bruises and scrapes covered his lined face, and for a moment she felt a small twinge of concern for the wizard. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he looked a bit more...human, for lack of a better term.

Then she remembered how Gandalf had lied to her and felt old anger and frustration unbury itself.

“We have quite a bit to discuss,” she said. “But first I need to speak Bard and Thranduil,” she said. She needed to confront them while she was still relatively calm clear-headed.

“This way.” Gandalf gestured for her to follow and they began walking through the streets of Dale. Several men were sparring with chipped swords or sharpening weapons in the courtyards. Pairs of elves stood at attention at every corner, standing in full armor and equipped with bows and swords.

Holly frowned.  _ They really are going to war. _

“You’ve come to try and make peace with Bard and Thranduil?” 

Holly nodded. “‘Try’ being the operative word. It’s been hard enough trying to handle Thorin—he’s gone a bit mad, by the way. Dragon sickness.”

“I was afraid that might happen.”

“And you let him enter the mountain anyway?”

“I told Thorin to wait for me at the overlook. Though if I had been there, I doubt I could have swayed him from his course.”

Holly frowned, unsatisfied with that answer, but changed the subject. “What did you find in Dol Guldur? From the looks of your face I’m guessing it wasn’t friendly.”

“What I discovered there was worse than I expected. Azog has raised an army, and they are marching upon Erebor as we speak.”

She scoffed. “And Bard and Thranduil still want to go to war over some gold?”

“Thranduil does not believe that there is any threat besides the dwarves.”

“Idiot. I’ll see if I can’t convince him otherwise.”

They had reached a large tent in the middle of a courtyard. Its flaps were drawn shut against the wind, but its size was indicative enough as to who they would find within.

“This is Thranduil’s command tent,” Gandalf said, but Holly had already pushed her way inside.

Thranduil and Bard looked up as she entered, wearing similar expressions of mild shock. As Holly made eye contact with Bard, she swallowed hard to get rid of the phantom pain in the back of her throat. The Elvenking raised an eyebrow from where he sat in an ornate chair on the other side of the tent.

“My scouts reported you dead.”

Holly halted for a moment, confused, then realized what he was talking about. The elves must have caught up to them after Smaug’s attack, when she had stopped breathing. “Fire them. If they actually meant to ensure my death they should have slit my throat.”

Thranduil’s lips curved upwards in cold amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’re welcome. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to shift to a more relevant topic.”

“Ah. Oakenshield has sent you here to do his dirty work, has he?”

Something about his icy stare made Holly realize that she was in enemy territory. No one here, save Gandalf, was on her side. All of her friends were in a mountain half a mile away.

Trying not to feel cornered, Holly summoned her coldest mask and locked eyes with Thranduil. “If by ‘dirty work’, you mean the disorganized, illogical mess you monarchs call diplomacy, then yes.”

“Save your breath,” he replied. “There is nothing to be negotiated here. We will go to war, and I will take what is rightfully mine.”

Holly sneered. “You have no claim over anything in that mountain.”

“On the contrary.” The elf rose from his seat. “A certain portion of the treasure—a mere handful of gems—belongs to me, and Oakenshield knows it. He is simply too blinded with greed to return them to their rightful owner.”

“You’re really going to war over a handful of rocks?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Your dwarf king really should have sent someone more well-versed in such matters.” Half a smirk twitched on his lips. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised, really, if his judgement is currently a bit clouded.”

Holly ignored the jab at Thorin’s sickness. “You’re right. I don’t understand the value of these gems that you desire. One thing I can comprehend, however, is the value of a life. And it is truly beyond me how you could risk your own people to regain a collection of inanimate, fundamentally useless objects.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “How many lives will be lost in a conflict against thirteen dwarves?”

“What about thirteen hundred?”

Thranduil appeared unfazed by this. “My army has pledged themselves into my service. If a few die in this battle, they will have done their duty.”

“What about your son?” Holly replied. “I suppose he’s just another letter to send home. Or—no, they would probably inform you personally if he died in battle, correct?”

Finally—a flash of anger in the king’s eyes informed her that she’d hit a weak spot. Without waiting for a reply, Holly turned to Bard. “You have a son, too. Why are you helping him? I’ve seen your men out in the courtyards. They don’t know how to fight. You’re really going to send them to their death to fulfill  _ his _ selfish desires?” 

“Thranduil came to our aid when we were in dire need of it,” Bard replied. “I can hardly say the same for your dwarf friends. And we still require a share of the gold, to help rebuild our lives.”

Holly sighed. “Yes, you’ll need it to get your economy up and running again, but your more immediate concern is surviving the winter. Gold isn’t going to help you with that, unless you’ve found a way to eat it or use it to patch up your roof.” She turned to Thranduil. “And you can piss off. You’re not getting anything from that treasure horde.”

The elf tilted his chin up. “I will not leave until I have reclaimed what is mine.”

Holly clenched her jaw. She was running out of cards to play. How was she supposed to dismantle an argument composed of pure idiocy?

Gandalf chose that moment to speak. “The forces from Dol Guldur will attack with their full strength. If you allow them to take the mountain, they will move on to reclaim Angmar. None of Middle Earth will be safe.”

“Ah, yes. This so-called orc army you insist on bringing up.” Thranduil narrowed his eyes. “Even if such an army did exist, it would not dissuade me from my cause.”

“You would be attacked on both fronts,” Holly said. “And Dale’s defenses are not much stronger than piles of crumbling rock. If you were to simultaneously confront Erebor and the orcs, you’d be crushed.”

Thranduil took a long moment to mull over her words. “I admire your reasoning,” he said after a while. “But it does not sway me.”

Frustration gave way to desperation. Holly turned to Bard. “And you?” she asked in what she hoped was a beseeching tone. “You’ve always had the good of the people in mind. Surely you can see why this is wrong.”

“This  _ is _ for the good of the people,” he said, though he cast a small frown in the Elvenking’s direction as he spoke. “I will stand with King Thranduil.”

Holly knew he had no choice. He couldn’t cut ties with the Elvenking, especially with his soldiers posted throughout the city. And she was out of options.

“This is all just a game to you, isn’t it?” Holly asked Thranduil with a glare.

The satisfaction in his eyes glimmered away to cold indifference. “I believe you’ve just lost.”

Biting back a curse, Holly made to leave the tent, but two elvish guards stepped in her path.

“Now, I can’t let you leave just yet,” Thranduil said, and Holly felt a chill run down her spine as she turned to face him. “Not only did you break out of my dungeons, you also refused to answer my question. If you deny me again, I can’t say you’ll be so lucky.”

“Thranduil,” Bard said. “We have other things that need—” He fell silent as the elf cut him off with a look.

Holly met his hard stare with one of her own. “Given your skepticism during our last encounter, I doubt the worth of what I’m going to say if it’s just going to be met with disbelief. But if you truly want to know, it was a dark mage named Damon who did this to me, against my will. I was traveling through Mirkwood so I could meet with Gandalf to find a solution this matter. I wasn’t in any way trying to spy on or threaten you, if you can wrap your egocentric head around that idea.”

Thranduil cast a glance at Gandalf, and seemed to find some amount of reassurance in the affirming nod he received. “Very well. I’ll trust your word for now. But if you ever trespass the borders of my kingdom again—“

“You’ll kill me, I suppose. Good luck trying that one again.” Holly straightened her coat. “Now, if you’re done wasting my time, I’m sure we both have things we’d rather be doing.”

Without waiting for an answer, she pushed past the guards and strode back into the cold winter air.

\---

“Well, that was a complete disaster.” Holly pulled her coat closed against the wind as she and Gandalf stepped out of the tent. “But possibly salvageable. If I come back tomorrow, once they’ve had time to consider what I said—”

“That will not be possible, I’m afraid,” Gandalf said. “Azog’s army is less than a day away. Erebor and Dale will be preparing for war, and I’d rather you stay inside the mountain until the battle is over.” They began walking back towards the entrance of the city.

“Things will only get worse if we wait until this is over. Thranduil is going to wage war on Erebor regardless of the orc army. And the dwarves don’t have the resources to wait this out. I can’t just sit on my hands and wait for my friends to get killed.”

“I’m not asking you to do nothing. I am simply asking you to keep your own safety in mind.”

“The last time I did that I nearly died anyway.” Holly took a deep breath and stopped walking. “Though I suppose you might already know about that.”

Gandalf stopped as well and turned to face her.

“I know whose soul I’ve been carrying this whole time. Thranduil was the one who gave me the information I needed, actually. It was Smaug.” Holly watched his face for a reaction. The wizard’s eyes widened in mild surprise and concern. “Now, doesn’t it seem  _ awfully  _ coincidental that you sent me to travel with the very dwarves whose mission was to kill the dragon that I was bound to?”

“I knew nothing about the dragon’s connection to you. Perhaps your joining Thorin’s Company was not by mere chance, but I would not have put you in such a position had I known the full details of the situation.”

Gandalf seemed to be telling the truth, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust him anymore. “I don’t believe in coincidences. The Valar are rarely so lazy. And whether or not you knew about Smaug, you still lied to me to get me to travel with the Company. You knew all along that I wasn’t going to Dol Guldur with you, and yet you allowed me to believe otherwise.” Holly scoffed and crossed her arms. “Pieces on a chessboard, indeed.”

She sensed that Gandalf was angry for a moment, but when he spoke his voice was calm. “Perhaps your analogy is not entirely false. I was brought to this world to protect the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, and I choose to do so by convincing others to take action against the forces that would seek to destroy them. My intention was never to see you hurt or killed, but only to guide you and help you.”

Holly kept her arms crossed, though she let her shoulders relax. At the moment, there were more important things than holding a grudge against the wizard. “All for the greater good, then.” Gandalf was not only her one ally in this crumbling city, but also one of the only people to guide her through a problem she’d had no idea how to solve. “Well, you’ve offered me more help with this than anyone ever has, so I suppose I can’t hold a grudge over that.”

“And I hope you’ll allow me to help you once more. Your battle with the dark magic is not yet finished.”

Holly shook her head. “But Smaug is dead. With his soul gone, the dark magic should have dissipated. Hasn’t it?”

Holly could tell, by the slightest turn of a frown beneath his beard, what the answer was going to be. However, that did not stop cold fear from sliding down her spine as Gandalf shook his head.

“No, it has not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought.


	26. The Solution

**Chapter 26: The Solution**

 

Holly was shaking by the time she reached the top of the wall, limbs trembling from the cold and the exertion it had taken to climb up. She gratefully accepted Bilbo’s extended hand as he helped her the rest of the way over the battlements.

“How did it go?” His smile faded as Holly paused to catch her breath and shook her head. “They refused?”

“My argument was practically  _ airtight _ and Thranduil just sat there with his stupid  _ smirk _ and told me I didn’t understand what was going on. Gandalf was there as well, and he did very little to aid the situation.” She sighed and slumped down against the battlements. “This whole affair is  _ ridiculously _ idiotic. They’re all off to kill people over a bunch of  _ rocks _ .” 

“Well, no one can say you didn’t try.” Bilbo took a seat beside her.

“ _ Trying _ isn’t going to keep people alive.” Not only did she feel frustrated and humiliated after having lost the argument, but she’d also let her friends down. “I can’t let anyone die.”

“I know.” Bilbo reached over and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “And I’m not sure how this is going to work out. But you don’t have to do this alone, all right?”

Holly leaned body against his, trying to relax. “Right. I just don't see any way around this. Both Thorin and Thranduil are both being pig-headedly stubborn. Thorin would do anything to get the Arkenstone—”

Bilbo sat up straighter. “That’s it.” He glanced around as though to make sure no one was listening, then leaned closer. “What if I went to Dale tonight and gave the Arkenstone to Bard?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You realize we’re trying to  _ stop _ the war, right?”

“Listen—they could use it to bargain for a share of the treasure and make an alliance. Thorin values the Arkenstone above the rest of the gold, so he’ll have to give in. There won’t be any need to go to war, and we’ll all be able to face the orc army together.”

Everyone would be satisfied (for the most part), and with an alliance they would have a better chance at defending themselves. The plan was more than she could have hoped for. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Bilbo grinned. “You think so?”

“Of course.” Holly leaned over and kissed him. “You’re brilliant.”

Bilbo gave a soft laugh and kissed her back. Holly felt a breathless, warm euphoria spread through her body as she reached up to pull him closer. She wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, with his hand cupping her cheek and one of her hands at his nape, tangled in his soft curls.

_ Though that would be highly impractical _ , Holly realized as she broke the kiss. She bit her lip as reality reasserted itself with a harsh jolt. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I talked to Gandalf while I was in Dale—explained the whole business with the dark magic and the dragon to him. And then he told me the bond is still there.”

Bilbo blinked, confusion and fear replacing the gentle warmth in his eyes. “But Smaug is dead.”

“Gandalf’s theory is that a portion of Smaug’s soul managed to...stick to my own, I suppose. And he doesn’t know how to sever the bond, but once the battle is over we’re going to find Damon and persuade him to find a solution.”

The thought of confronting the mage scared her. She didn’t know the full limits of his power, or even how he would manage against Gandalf, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. And he had already claimed that the bond was irreversible, so they didn’t have a guarantee that they could solve this at all. But living with a dragon hissing poison in her ear until she died—

She’d lost too much of her early life. There was too much  _ what could have been _ written between the lines of her history.  _ No more, _ she decided.

“Well, I suppose if Gandalf’s there, then you’ll be all right,” Bilbo said.

Holly was beginning to understand why everyone seemed to naturally trust the wizard. He had an air of composure and wisdom about him that instilled confidence in everyone around him. She hadn’t noticed it before—or perhaps she’d just ignored it. She certainly appreciated his assistance, now that he was actually providing it.

Holly winced as a bitter gust swept over the battlements, making both of them shiver. “Come on, let’s get inside. I still have to tell Thorin how spectacularly horrible the meeting went.”

\---

Thorin felt no surprise upon hearing news of the meeting in Dale. He only experienced a slight flare in the dull anger that seemed to hound him wherever he went, followed by a sharper flare of resentment for the people of Dale and their Mirkwood allies. It was as he had always suspected—they were after his treasure. He knew of the gems Thranduil desired, and he would rather cut of his own hand than relinquish them to the elf. All the treasure in the mountain belonged to him.

Any attempt to make an agreement had been pointless. Holly, of all people, should have realized that.

Thorin threw a glance across the armory to where Holly was speaking with Nori, a sly grin on her face. She unsettled him, though he was loathe to admit it. Her eyes were always observing—always watching, with a reptilian cunning that set his teeth on edge. She had to be plotting something.

Holly had claimed she was trying to help, but such an explanation did not sit well with Thorin. Bofur had mentioned earlier that it was her people that had taken refuge in Dale. Perhaps she had gone to gain allies in Dale for a more insidious reason.

“Master Baggins. Come here.”

Bilbo perked up at the sound of his name and locked eyes with Thorin. He made his way over to him, wending his way around racks of swords and past other members of the Company.

“You’re going to need this.” Thorin held up the object clutched in one fist, torchlight glinting off its pale facets. “This vest is made of silver steel—mithril, my forebears called it. No blade can pierce it.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. “I—Thorin. I’m not a warrior, I’m a hobbit. I can’t take this.”

“It is a gift. A token of our friendship,” Thorin said. Bilbo hesitated, then accepted the vest. Whether or not he went into battle with the rest of them, Thorin wanted to ensure his safety. He had come to value their relationship during the time they had journeyed together, and he would see to it that Bilbo returned home, after he had done so much to secure the same for him.

A twist of unease forced him to refocus. “True friends are hard to come by,” Thorin said with a glance towards the rest of the Company. He pulled Bilbo off to the side, so they would not be overheard. “I have been blind, but now I am beginning to see. I am betrayed.”

“B-Betrayed?” Bilbo swallowed hard, holding Thorin’s gaze with wide eyes. There was only one person for whom he would react with such distress.

“The Arkenstone—one of them has taken it. One of them is  _ false _ .”

“Thorin, the quest is fulfilled. You’ve won the mountain. Is that not enough? Y-You made a promise to the people of Laketown. Is this treasure truly worth more than your honor—our honor? I was also there. I gave my word as well.”

“For that, I am grateful. It was nobly done.” Such an act of loyalty had been bracing in such a hostile environment, especially coming from Bilbo. Another twist of unease followed as he remembered the master’s greedy, glinting eyes. “But the treasure in this mountain does not belong to the people of Laketown. This gold is  _ ours _ , and ours alone. With my life I will not part with a  _ single _ coin. Not one piece of it.” He would not allow anyone to steal from him.

Not even his so-called allies, Thorin concluded with one last glance at a certain sharp-eyed woman.

\---

Holly should not have been smiling. They were on the verge of war, one of her friends had gone mad, and she was being threatened by an insane dark mage. But for the moment, a rare spark of optimism had quieted her fear. Bilbo had come up with a brilliant plan and they were sneaking out in the dead of the night to execute it.

It wasn’t such a terrible arrangement—just the two of them against the rest of the world.

“You’ve got plenty of time before my watch is over.” She spoke in a low voice, sending a wary glance back down the hall. “Just give them the Arkenstone, and don’t yield to any requests Thranduil might make. Within reason, of course.”

“Right.” Bilbo nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I can do that.”

“Is something wrong?”

“This just doesn’t feel right. What we’re doing.”

“It doesn’t matter what you feel, we just have to get it done.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Bilbo turned to her, eyes narrowing in a mixture of confusion and indignation.

“What I’m trying to say…” Holly sighed again. Bilbo was looking for reassurance, and she had spoken without thinking. The confused emptiness that had swelled up after Smaug’s death had been replaced with something more volatile and aggressive ever since she had entered the mountain. Was she getting sick too?

No. She couldn’t be sick, not when so much depended on her own stability.

“Sorry,” Holly tried again. “Look, the plan is simple. Bard and Thranduil have every reason to use the stone as a bargaining tool.” Reviewing straightforward logic always helped her calm down, and perhaps it would do the same for him. “And once you’ve given it to them, it will be out of our hands, so there’s no use in worrying what happens after that.” Though, really, there was every reason to worry. Their lives depended on the result.

The furrow did not disappear from his brow. “What’s Thorin going to make of the Arkenstone suddenly appearing outside of Erebor? He’ll think one of us has taken it. He already suspects that someone here has stolen it.”

“Oh, I’ve already taken care of that. Earlier today I suggested that someone could have snuck in and out of Erebor before we built the wall, and that I might have seen someone skulking around outside.” At this, Bilbo relaxed a little. At least she could say something right.

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Let’s hope so.” 

They stepped out onto the wall. The desolation between Dale and Erebor lay spread out under an inky sky littered with stars and a full moon.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Holly glanced up at the sky, then back at Bilbo. He was gazing upwards, a small smile on his face. It amazed her how he could still find goodness in the world in the face of war. “I suppose it is.”

As he moved closer, she caught a glimpse of something silvery-white beneath his coat. Further inspection revealed a chain shirt with ornate designs around the collar. “What is that?”

Bilbo followed her gaze. “Oh, this? Thorin gave it to me earlier. He said it was made of mithril, I think.”

“He  _ what _ ?”

“I was a bit surprised myself. Do you think he’s trying to fight the sickness?” A brief, terribly fragile ray of hope lit up on his face.

Holly was still reeling from the implications of such a gift. “Either that, or he’s intending to marry you. That shirt alone is probably worth more than your house.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. “Are you sure about that?”

“No. It might be worth ten times that.” And they might have found their solution. Perhaps Thorin would be able to save himself from the dragon sickness. Though she didn’t know what would have caused such a realization on his part. “Why now? He’s been so obstinate lately. I thought he was getting worse.” And why Bilbo, as opposed to Thorin’s nephews, or one of his kin?

“Oh.” It hit her then, the memory of the treasure hall, when Bilbo had said Thorin’s name, just his  _ name _ , and Thorin had stopped and listened. There had also been the time when Bilbo had confronted him after Bard had visited, and Thorin had given him assurances, however vague, instead of brushing him aside like he had done with everyone else. “It’s  _ you _ .”

“What’s...me?”

“I’m not sure why, but Thorin clearly trusts you more than the others. He really cares about you.” 

A strange thought occurred to her. If Thorin favored him so in such a paranoid state, how would he act once he was better? 

She brushed that aside and said, “I think if anyone would be able to talk him out of the dragon sickness, it would be you.”

Bilbo was silent for a moment, digesting what she had said. It was a huge burden to carry, to be the only one able to save him, and for a moment Holly began to regret telling him. 

But he brightened with a weary smile and said, “I’ll do what I can, then.”

“All right.” It still didn’t sit well with her, leaving him to do this on his own. “You’re incredibly strong for doing this. You know that, don't you?”

“That’s two compliments in one day. Who are you and what have you done with Holly?”

They laughed at that. Holly tried to pretend that she hadn’t been asking herself that question every day.

“Well.”

“Right.”

“I guess I should…” Bilbo jerked his head in the direction of Dale.

Holly straightened her posture.  _ Back to work. _ She could mope about her own problems later. “Let’s not waste any more time, then. There are guards posted at each entrance, so you’ll have to sneak in. You can just use your ring, yes?”

As soon as the words left her mouth a subtle  _ something _ snapped into place in Bilbo’s expression—something guarded and out of place. “How do you know about that?”

“I saw you turn invisible. Or Smaug did. And after giving it some thought I concluded that you must be carrying some sort of magical object, seeing as you don’t have any natural magical ability. It must be something portable, easy to hide, and simple to activate. A ring was the most logical choice.”

Bilbo gave a stiff nod. He wasn’t looking her in the eyes anymore. “Well, you’re right. I did find a ring in the Misty Mountains.”

Holly should have just left it at that. She didn’t know what impulsive curiosity prompted her to ask, “Can I see it?”

“I should go.” His answer was so abrupt and unexpected that Holly could not think of a single thing to say.

And she could only watch as he turned and began climbing down the wall, leaving her confused and wondering what she had done wrong.

\---

As soon as Bilbo’s feet hit the ground he let out a heavy sigh and glanced back up the wall, but there was no sign of Holly. He frowned, inwardly berating himself. How he had acted had been rude, and unacceptable, and he meant to apologize as soon as he got back.

But at the same time, he couldn’t ignore how defensive and scrutinized he had felt, how Holly’s observational skills had seemed more like a threat than an asset. She didn’t need to know about the ring—no one did. It was none of her business. Even as the thought crossed his mind, Bilbo slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers running across smooth gold.

He had felt this sort of aggression and possessiveness in Mirkwood, though it had been much more extreme then. The ring had slipped from his grasp at one point and one of the spiders had touched it—just bumped against it—and Bilbo hadn’t realized what he had done until the spider had long since stopped squealing and struggling to get away and he stood with spider blood and gore covering his sword and his face and his hands—

Bilbo took a deep, shuddering breath as he resurfaced from the memory. Perhaps it had just been a side effect of being in Mirkwood for too long. But it had still haunted his nightmares while he had been trapped inside the elves’ fortress. To think that he was capable of something like that made him sick to his stomach. 

He didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

Another gust of wind brought him back to the present, and he realized he was close to the city. As he neared the bridge leading to one of the gates, he slipped on the ring, familiar tendrils of something thick and heavy settling on his shoulders. 

Holly had given him directions to the command tent, so he hurried through the streets, dodging elves and men since they couldn’t step aside for someone they couldn’t see.

As Bilbo approached the tent, he heard Gandalf’s voice, sounding equal parts agitated and concerned. 

“Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?”

“It will not come to that,” Bard replied, and as Bilbo rounded the corner he saw the two of them arguing outside the tent. “This is a fight they cannot win.”

“That won’t stop them,” he said as he took off the ring, shaking off a sudden wave of vertigo. “You think the dwarves will surrender? They won’t. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said. “I am glad to see you alive and well.” Bard gave a polite nod after recovering from the shock of his sudden appearance.

“It’s good to see you too, Gandalf.” Bilbo offered a warm smile.

“What are you doing here?” The wizard’s tone turned from affectionate to stern. “You should be in Erebor.”

Bilbo became conscious of the weight of the Arkenstone in his pocket. “I’ve come to continue the negotiations.”

“There’s nothing more to negotiate.” Bard cast an almost resentful glance at a group of armored elves marching by. “We are going to war.”

“Well, I may have something that will change your mind.”

That was enough to pique Bard’s interest, and he motioned for him to enter the tent. As the three of them stepped inside, Gandalf sent him a glance that plainly read,  _ I hope you know what you are doing. _

Thranduil was sitting on his chair. He fixed Bilbo with an analytical stare that was not unlike Holly’s. “If I am not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.”

“Uh.” Was he still angry about that? “Yes. Sorry about that.” Thranduil did not respond, choosing to continue scrutinizing him instead, so Bilbo went forth and placed the Arkenstone on a table in the center of the room. “I came to give you this.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened, as did Bard’s as they gazed at the stone. “The Heart of the Mountain—The King’s Jewel.”

“And worth a king’s ransom,” Bard said, his gaze less enraptured than the elf’s. He turned to Bilbo. “How is this yours to give?”

He hadn’t thought about that. “I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure,” Bilbo replied. That seemed like an appropriate answer.

“Why would you do this?” Bard asked. “You owe us no loyalty.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I know dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult...and suspicious and secretive, with the  _ worst _ manners you can possibly imagine. But they are also brave and kind and loyal to a fault. I’ve grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can.” Bilbo sighed, the affectionate glow from his words wrestling with his trepidation of what he had to do next. “Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you’re owed. There will be no need for war.”

Bilbo swallowed hard as Bard and Thranduil studied the stone.  _ I’m doing the right thing, _ he had to remind himself, but the words felt empty.

“Very well.” Thranduil was the first to speak. “We will use the Arkenstone to bargain for what is ours. Let us hope your dwarf king knows a good deal when he sees one.”

Bilbo nodded, feeling numb, and followed Gandalf out of the tent.

“That was a very brave thing to do,” the wizard said as they left. “And I hope this plan of yours will work.”

“It will work.” Bilbo found his voice again, repeating the words that had become a sort of a mantra between him and Holly.  _ It has to work. _

“Rest up tonight. You must leave on the morrow.”

“What?”

“Get as far away from here as possible.”

“I’m not leaving. You picked me as the fourteenth man. I can’t leave the Company now.” He would stay in Erebor, even if that meant that he had to fight in the battle. “Don’t worry about me. Erebor is one of the safest places there is. They’ll be able to defend against the orcs.”

“It’s not the orcs you should be worried about. I don’t like to think what Thorin will do when he finds out what you’ve done.”

_ Thorin.  _ Bilbo could feel the slightest tremor in his hands, and clenched them into fists. “I-I’m not afraid of Thorin.”

“Well, you should be. Don’t underestimate the evil of gold. Dragon sickness sinks its claws into its victims and is loathe to loosen its hold even the slightest bit.”

“What are you saying? That we can’t help him?”

“The history of this land is written in blood. Thorin’s grandfather and father succumbed to the dragon sickness, and it drove their people to grief and misery.” Gandalf paused, the creases lining his face seeming to grow deeper. “Who can say that Thorin will be any different?”

\---

“Fool. You think this plan will work? You are merely planning your own demise.”

“Shut up,” Holly said from where she was seated against the battlements. Smaug was pacing back and forth across the wall like an oversized, scaly cat. She fought to clamp down on the whirlwind of despair, rage, and panic that she now recognized as not her own emotions, but Smaug’s attempt to unhinge her with his influence. “I’m not in the mood. Go bother someone who cares.”

“Oh, you’re going to have to do more than ‘I don’t like you, go away’ if you want to get rid of me.”

“All right,” Holly said, anger swelling and crashing down like the waters of the Long Lake during a storm. She spared a moment to calm down, then continued in a more level tone. “If you’re not going to leave, then at least tell me how to get rid of you.” 

Smaug fell into a smirking, taunting silence. Holly grit her teeth. If he could influence her, then perhaps she could do the same. “ _ Answer me _ .”

“Fighting back now, are we?” He sounded amused. “You can’t get rid of me. I  _ am _ you.”

“No.”

“I am in your blood.”

Finally, some information. Holly touched the heated pulsing spot on her chest. She had checked it earlier that day and had found a dark, bruise-colored circle about half an inch wide. The spot was right over a small scar she had, something she had originally dismissed as a childhood accident, but in light of recent events she had no doubt it was something more sinister.  _ I am in your blood. _

“I have some of your blood, then,” she said.

“Took you long enough,” the dragon said. “So I suppose if you wanted to get rid of me, bleeding out should work well enough.”

Holly shut her eyes. “There has to be another way.”

“Hm. Perhaps there is. Or perhaps everything I’ve told you so far is a lie.”

Holly sighed. Clearly she wouldn’t be able to get anything else out of him, and the information she had received so far might not even be true. She wondered how one part of her mind could keep secrets from the other. Perhaps she was developing two personalities—she’d heard of that happening to people. How bad was it that she was questioning her own sanity?

A low creak made Holly tense up, but it was only the rope on the other end of the wall being pulled taut. She scrambled to her feet and hurried over to help Bilbo over the battlements. A slight movement farther out in the plain caught her eye, but she dismissed it as a trick of the light (or lack thereof). No one in their right mind would be wandering around on the plains at this time of night, unless they too had some sort of secret bargain to establish.

“Did they accept?” she asked, throwing a glance behind her. Smaug had already gone. When Bilbo didn’t answer, she turned back and frowned. “What happened?”

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut and slumped against the wall, all color draining from his face.

Holly was at his side in an instant, placing one hand on his shoulder. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he finally said, the words coming out so softly she almost didn’t catch them.

“You mean saving everyone’s lives? I’d say it was one of your better decisions.”

“I betrayed Thorin. I-I know it was my idea, but I went behind his back and...When he finds out, he…” Bilbo took a breath to compose himself. “I just don’t know if we’re doing the right thing.”

Morality was hardly an area in which she considered herself an expert. “I don’t know if what we’re doing is right or wrong. But I do know that giving up the Arkenstone is what needs to be done, regardless of whether or not we’re going behind Thorin’s back. If it means saving our friends, then we’re justified in our actions. And once Thorin is himself again, he’ll thank you for what you did. It’ll turn out fine, I—” Holly paused. She’d been about to say,  _ I promise _ , but the words seemed too fragile now, so she settled on a simple, “It’ll be all right.”

Bilbo cracked a faint smile. “That’s strangely optimistic, coming from you.”

“It’s not optimistic, it’s practical,” Holly said, even as a small smile danced on the corners of her lips. She wanted to continue to reassure him, though she didn’t know what to say next. Though perhaps she didn’t have to speak. She leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, trying to convey as much strength and security as she could through the contact. Bilbo kissed her back, pressing one hand against her back to pull her closer.

As she deepened the kiss, Holly realized that perhaps she was attempting to draw strength from him as well. She was terribly afraid, and being with Bilbo did little to alleviate that, but it gave her a drive to push forward anyway.

Surviving this ordeal with the orcs and the elves and Smaug and Damon and her own questionable sanity had seemed near impossible at first, and it still did. But she wasn’t alone, and that meant she had a reason to fight.

\---

Holly awoke to a penetrating darkness and an equally penetrating silence. She scowled and sat up, hoping it was morning.  _ Enough gold to line the streets of Minas Tirith and these dwarves didn’t think to put in some damned windows. _ She shrugged her coat on and fumbled her way over to the door, pulling it open and squinting against the dim torchlight.

Everyone else appeared to be awake already, since their doors were already open, but this observation gave way to blank, numb terror as she caught sight of the figure strolling down the hall.

“H-How did you get in here?”

“Same way I did last time.”

“What do you want?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Damon said, eyes wandering around the stone halls as though he hadn’t a care in the world. 

Holly stayed frozen, torn between retreating into her room and running away down the hall. Damon was  _ here _ , in the mountain, and he was making it all too clear that he could have attacked her and her friends any time he wanted. She assessed the stone walls, the doors, the braziers—nothing would make a suitable weapon. She could try to find something else in her room, but that might take too much time. Her nails might prove effective, though, if she went for his eyes and possibly his throat.

“If you’re done planning how you’re going to murder me, there’s more I need to tell you.”

“No.” Damon hadn’t slowed his advance, and Holly took several steps down the hallway to compensate. “Whatever you have to say, I’m not going to hear it.” 

“Are you going to run again? You know, it's rude to run away while people are talking to you.” Damon stared her down, his dark eyes boring into hers and making her hands shake despite her attempts to keep them still.

_ Control. Control. Control. _ But it was slipping from her grasp. That was why she feared and hated Damon so much, she realized—every time they met, he took away the one thing that had kept her safe throughout her life.

“And I promise you won’t get away like last time.”

“No? Watch me.” It was her only option. She had to get to her friends and warn them before Damon could do anything.

Holly turned and sprinted down the hall, her footsteps echoing off the stone. To her surprise, she heard no sound of pursuit. Perhaps he had something else planned.

What was she even supposed to say to the dwarves?  _ There’s a madman in the mountain with us and I need you to ignore everything he says! _ If Damon decided to tell the dwarves about her connection with Smaug, they probably wouldn’t believe him, but she wasn’t sure if she could lie to their faces and deny it.

And where was Bilbo? He would be at the most risk, being the most important to her. She needed to make sure he was safe.

Holly rounded the corner, the first words of warning already on her lips, and tripped on something heavy. Her palms met with a thin layer of something red and sticky as she hit the ground. She winced in disgust, then horror, and her eyes shot up in search of an explanation.

Nothing could have prepared her for the mess of corpses that lined the floor of the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit...who died?  
> You'll all find out next chapter! As always, thanks for reading this chapter and feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think.


	27. The Fading Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning part of this chapter contains gory descriptions and mentioned major character death. If that might bother you, skip to the next section.

**Chapter 27: The Fading Light**

 

Holly felt her breath catch in her throat as she took in the massacre before her. The floor of the hall was stained red. The sickly stench of blood and a more sulphurous scent commonly associated with dark magic caused her to raise the back of one blood-stained hand to her face to ward off the smell.

As she stepped back, her heel knocked against whatever she had tripped over. She turned around and nearly screamed.

Nori. Her clever, kind, strong friend, was lying with his neck twisted at the wrong angle, his shrewd gray eyes blank and unseeing.

“No, no no no  _ no _ .” Holly didn’t register the impact of her knees hitting the floor, nor the wetness of blood soaking into her dress as she gazed at his dead body. She couldn’t breathe. And she couldn’t look away, despite her pounding, aching head screaming at her to do so.

She had been laughing and talking with him only yesterday. Back when she had assumed that they would all be safe. She’d taken that for granted, and now...

Holly gasped for air and was finally able to wrench her eyes away.

Thorin caught her gaze next. The breastplate of his golden armor was so bent and twisted and matted with blood and broken ribs that she couldn’t even begin to identify what had happened to him.

Fourteen bodies. She didn’t need to count to know how many there were. Despite his missing jaw she knew it was Bofur leaning against the wall, and she could tell from the blood-soaked blond braids that Fíli was lying on his stomach next to him.

And farther down the hall…

Holly ran, scrambling and slipping over corpses and blood until she was kneeling beside him, letting out a jagged approximation of a gasp.

Bilbo lay on his back, the blood from the hole in his chest pooling the floor. His eyes, once filled with so much kindness and warmth, were still and unseeing, and even though Holly was silently begging him to look at her, to  _ say something _ , they didn’t move to meet hers.

“ _ No _ . Bilbo, please.” Her voice cracked into a sob, and it caused another fracture to appear somewhere deeper, in a more primal part of her. “No,  _ please _ .” The voice that left her mouth was not her own, but that of a girl twenty years younger pleading over the body of a man who had water in his lungs instead of air.

Holly was dimly aware of tears running down her face and landing with a soft  _ tap tap _ on the floor as she cradled his body in her arms. She was too late. Yesterday he had been fine, they had all been  _ fine _ and now—now it was as though she had entered a different world, one without all the people she loved.

A world without pain, because the ripping, tearing sensation she was experiencing in her soul could not possibly be equated to something as mundane as  _ pain _ .

“What a shame.” The sound of Damon’s voice behind her caused Holly to blink back tears, stiffening in fear and rage. “This is what it’s going to look like, Holly, if you don’t play by my rules.”

She lowered Bilbo’s body back to the ground and turned to face him. “What?”

Damon shook his head. “You’re even more gullible than I thought.” He spread his arms, turning around. “Look around you. I thought you would have been through enough of these nightmares for you to recognize when you’re in one.”

Confusion and frigid hope washed over her as she stood up. Was she having another nightmare? “Why are you doing this?” Her voice came out hoarse and trembling, but a furnace of anger was already beginning to melt the icy grief that had consumed her moments before.

“Fourteen strikes, Holly. I’ve been rather generous so far, but I’m running out of patience. You’ll meet me at Ravenhill tomorrow. If I don’t see you there, well…” He gestured to the broken bodies at his feet.

“I’ll be there.” And after she forced him to reverse the spell, she would tear his heart out and make him watch it stop beating.

“Good. It’s not me your friends should worry about anyway—they should be afraid of you.”

\---

Holly woke to a pounding head and damp cheeks. She sat in the dark for a while, scrubbing at her eyes until they were raw and wondering why her friends would have any reason to fear her.

Hopefully she was truly awake this time, and hadn’t only woken within her dream, if such a thing was possible. When had it become so difficult to discern what was real and what was not?

With stiff limbs, she sat up and climbed out of bed. Whatever reality she was in, the only thing left to do was move forward.

She found the rest of the Company gathered on the wall in a tense group, their gazes focused on Dale. Holly let out a sigh, relieved that they were all alive.

When she reached the top of the wall, a curse shot from her lips. A sea of metal was moving towards Erebor—rows of armor and bows and swords marching in elvish perfection. Behind the army was a cluster of men. The conglomeration of mismatched colors and dusty weapons seemed like a spot of dirt next to the polished formation of the elves.

Thranduil and Bard were mounted on an elk and a horse respectively at the front of the group. Even from a distance she could see that they were both armed.

The dwarves were prepared for battle as well. They had all donned armor and new weapons. Thorin already had an arrow nocked in his bow.

“This is it.” Holly went to stand beside Bilbo. “We’ll either be remembered as geniuses, or this will all go horribly.”

Bilbo elbowed her, and Holly set her mouth into a flat line. It was a poor attempt at a joke, and not what either of them wanted to think about at the moment. Not trusting herself to say any more on the subject, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his. She was irrationally relieved to find that his skin was warm, and that his hand moved to squeeze hers.  _ Not dead yet. _

The thought of her nightmare raised a burning lump in her throat, and she had to look around to make sure that the Company was, in fact, still alive. Damon had made it all too clear that he was willing to hurt them to make her do what he wanted. Holly needed to find and kill him as soon as possible to prevent that, whether Gandalf was with her or not.

She could not allow anyone else’s blood to be on her hands.

And as for the rubbish about herself being a threat to the Company...that was impossible. Obviously she wouldn’t— _ couldn’t _ —hurt any of her friends.

“Are you all right?” Bilbo asked, staring at her with concern. “You look…”

Holly knew her eyes were puffy and her nose was red from crying that morning. She couldn’t bear to tell him about her nightmare—not while the memory was still so fresh and horrible. She lowered her head, letting her hair swing forward to obscure her face. “Just a bad dream.”

“Look, about what happened last night,” Bilbo said. “What I said right before I left…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, of course not. I was being…” He paused, then continued in a more urgent tone, speaking quickly as though ushering the words out of his mouth. “Holly, there’s something wrong with this ring. Whenever I put it on, it feels—”

The sharp impact of metal on stone halted whatever Bilbo had been about to say. Thorin stood with his bow held aloft, the string still vibrating from its release. At the bottom of the wall, where Thranduil and Bard had stopped, was an arrow lying at the feet of the elk.

“I will put the next one between your eyes.” Thorin aimed another arrow as several of the dwarves cheered and hurled insults in Khuzdul.

Thranduil gave a cold, amused smile and raised one hand. His entire army nocked and aimed their arrows in unison. The laughter and mockery atop the wall turned to panic as the dwarves ducked behind the battlements.

Holly remained standing, as did Thorin. She knew Thranduil was bluffing, at least for now—he wasn’t the type to draw his sword to kill a fly. And she doubted the elf would want to miss the opportunity to flaunt the Arkenstone in front of Thorin. 

Sure enough, Thranduil ordered his army to stand down with another gesture. The air was filled with a reverberating hiss as a thousand arrows slid back into their quivers.

“We’ve come to tell you,” the elvenking said, “Payment of your debt has been offered, and accepted.”

“What payment?” Thorin asked. “I gave you nothing. You have  _ nothing _ .”

Bard reached into his pocket and withdrew the Arkenstone. As he held it up, the jewel’s facets glittered in the morning light. “We have this.”

Thorin lowered his bow, eyes riveted on the stone. Holly had to remind herself to breathe.

“They have the Arkenstone,” Kíli said. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king.”

“And the king may have it, with our good will.” Bard bounced the stone in his palm, making several of the dwarves tense up, then slipped it back into his coat. “But first he must honor his word.”

Thorin shook his head, eyes burning. “They’re taking us for fools. This is a ruse. A filthy lie.” He raised his voice so everyone could hear him. “The Arkenstone is in this mountain. It is a trick.”

Holly let out a loud, irritated sigh. “Really?” Thorin’s eyes found hers with remarkable speed. She moved to the center of the wall, trying to control the tremor in her hands. “You and I both know it’s not a  _ trick _ . Just give them the gold before you make this situation worse than it already is.”

_ Hm. That wasn’t the right thing to say, was it? _

She opened her mouth to correct herself, but Thorin’s glare caused her voice to catch in her throat.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“What?” An incredulous laugh bubbled up of its own accord. “You don’t really believe—”

“ _ You _ stole the Arkenstone and gave it to them. I should have known that you would conspire with you own kind.”

It shouldn’t have been so hard for her to look innocent. But the way Thorin was glowering at her, as though they hadn’t traveled and worked together for months now, as though he didn’t even recognize her… “Thorin, th-that’s not what happened, I swear.” She had to convince him that someone else had stolen the Arkenstone. “I already told you, I thought I saw—”

“It was me. I gave it to them.”

Silence blanketed the wall as everyone turned to look at Bilbo. He was standing with his fists clenched, nervous tension written in every muscle in his body.

_ What are you doing?  _ Holly wanted to shout. That hadn’t been part of the plan. But this, she realized, was her fault—she had assumed that Thorin would believe her suggestion, and now Bilbo was going to pay for her careless actions.

Yet Thorin made no move to act upon his rage. He simply stared, shaking his head. Blank shock and something that looked like hurt seemed to have frozen over his rage.

“You?” 

The word hovered in the air, fragile and devoid of anger.

“I took it as my fourteenth share.” Bilbo’s eyes lowered to the ground.

“You would steal from me?”

“Steal from you? No, no. I may be a burglar, but I’d like to think I’m an honest one. I’m willing to let it stand against my claim.” Bilbo caught her eye and gave the slightest of nods.  _ Trust me. _

Of course she trusted him. Holly would trust him with her own life, but she wasn’t sure if she trusted him with his own.

“Against your claim?” Thorin’s voice twisted into something fractured that wasn’t quite amusement. He let out mirthless laugh. “Your claim.” His bow hit the ground with a sharp  _ clank. _ “You have no claim over me, you miserable  _ rat _ .”

Holly bit down on her tongue to keep from lashing out at him. Bilbo was obviously going to try and talk him out of the sickness, and she meant to let him try, but if Thorin was driven to violence, she would not let Bilbo get hurt.

“I was going to give it to you. Many times, I wanted to, but—”

“But  _ what _ , thief?” Thorin asked, his upper lip curling into a sneer _. _ He said the word as if it was Bilbo’s own name.

Bilbo straightened his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You are changed, Thorin. The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin.”

“Do not speak to me of  _ loyalty _ .” Thorin took a step forward. Holly tensed up and stepped in between them, but he paused and turned to the rest of the Company. “Throw him from the ramparts!”

Ice cold shock buried itself into her limbs in hard, pointed shards. The others had frozen as well.

“Did you not hear me?” Thorin grabbed at Fíli’s arm but Fíli shoved him away, fear and defiance in his eyes. Thorin whirled around to look at the rest of them, only to be met with silence and wide eyes. “I will do it myself.”

He started forward, but Holly stepped forward as well, shoving her shoulder into his chest. “No, stop,  _ stop it! _ ” With his armor, it felt like she’d slammed into a brick wall, but it was enough to make him stop. 

Holly was shaking uncontrollably, but with rage rather than fear. She wanted to make him  _ bleed _ . She wanted a weapon. At the moment she had nothing but words, but she intended to make every single one of them cut deep.

But as Holly looked up with hate blazing in her eyes, she faltered. As she locked gazes with Thorin, she was met with something far more vulnerable than she would have ever expected. Through the clouds of sickness there was an ocean of pain and—were those tears in his eyes?

But as soon as she identified his suffering it was gone, snapped up in the jaws of madness, and Thorin shoved her aside. She hit the ground so hard the impact knocked the air from her lungs.

“Bilbo—no—” Holly gasped as Thorin seized him and dragged him towards the edge of the wall. Her heart stuttered when he thrust him towards a gap in the battlements, Bilbo’s feet brushing the edge of the precipice.

“Curse you! Cursed be the wizard that forced you upon this Company!”

She didn’t remember standing up, but the next thing she knew she was next to Thorin, joining the Company in their efforts to pull the both of them away from the edge of the wall.

An echoing, booming voice caused them all to freeze. “If you don’t like my burglar, then please don’t damage him. Return him to me.” Gandalf appeared at the head of the army, next to Thranduil and Bard. “You're not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain, are you, Thorin, son of Thrain?”

Thorin glared down at the wizard, hands still gripping Bilbo’s coat. Bilbo was panting and shaking, his eyes fixed on Thorin as though silently pleading for him not to let go, though Thorin did not acknowledge this.

After what seemed like hours, Thorin turned and shoved Bilbo to the side. He barely had time to stumble before his knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

Holly rushed to his side, angling her body between his and Thorin’s. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” She helped him to his feet and over to where the rope was coiled.

As she reached down to gather up the rope, Holly paused at the hand on her shoulder.

“Stay here.”

“What are you talking about? I’m going with you.”

Bilbo shook his head, his tone becoming more assertive as he spoke. “No. You’ll be safer here.” He cast a pained glance back at Thorin, where he was still yelling at the people below. “And stay away from Thorin. I don’t want him to hurt you too.”

Holly couldn’t speak. She realized this might be the last time she saw him. After a moment, she managed, “All right. I’ll stay here. And y-you...you have to be careful.”

Bilbo nodded, seeming to have too little energy for anything else. Holly searched for something in her scrambled mind to say to him, something  _ right _ , but the words wouldn’t come. 

And he was gone.

\---

The plains in front of Erebor had turned into a churning sea of death. The dwarvish reinforcements had arrived, then the orcish army, and it hadn’t taken long after that for man and elf and dwarf and orc to start stabbing at each other.

And Bilbo had walked right into that. Holly wished she had gone with him, but she knew she would have been more of a hindrance than an asset.

“I’m going over the wall,” Kíli said. “Who’s coming with me?”

The dwarves cried out in agreement and moved to follow him. Holly watched them go, her lips set in a flat line. She was going to lose them, too.

“Stand down.”

Thorin’s command hung in the air like heavy rain, causing what was left of the Company to fall silent.

Fíli was the first to speak. “What, are we to do nothing?”

“I said,  _ stand down _ .”

They all watched as Thorin climbed down the wall and disappeared into the shadows of Erebor.

Holly didn’t think—she clambered down the wall after him, her shock melting away against boiling rage. He couldn’t threaten the life of one of their own and just walk away. She wouldn’t allow it.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Holly didn’t stop until a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. Nori gave her a hard stare, his eyes searching hers for something, though she was too angry to guess what.

“I’m going to talk to Thorin.” She wrenched her arm from his grasp. Bilbo’s request seemed like nothing more than a distant memory.

“Not like this you’re not. We’re all furious about what happened, but talking to him while you’re angry isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Right, so I should just calm down, then? Talk about my feelings?” Holly knew that she should stop, that what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t control the words that poured from her mouth like venom.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to be the one getting hurt.”

“Whether or not he deserves it, you have to give him your respect. He’s still our king—”

“He’s still your king.” Holly gave a humorless laugh. “Well, that changes everything, doesn’t it?”

Nori sighed. “This isn’t something that you would understand.”

“I don’t think I do. Perhaps I should just stick to  _ my own kind _ , then?”

“I didn’t say that, Thorin did. Who are you angry at, anyway?”

She was angry at Thorin. But was it her anger? Or Smaug’s?

_ No. _ Thorin had almost killed Bilbo. She had every reason to be furious with him.

Holly swallowed hard, which left a sensation akin to downing crushed glass. “I’m going to be very angry with  _ you _ if you don’t get out of my way.”

“I’m not even in your way,” Nori said, but she had already turned and left the entrance hall.

\---

The short argument with Nori had slowed her down enough that it took her quite a while to find Thorin. The treasure hall had been her first guess, but the search there had proved fruitless and a waste of time. 

With nothing to fuel them, most of the torches in the halls had flickered out or died to mere glows of red light. And with them, Holly felt her anger waver into a fraction of what it had been.

The remorse came swift and blunt. She shouldn’t have snapped at Nori. He had only been trying to help her. Confronting Thorin was less than wise, anyway. As much as she hated the thought, she would have to wait this one out.

As she passed the throne room, a pair of voices caught her attention. She peeked through the doorway and spotted Thorin sitting on the throne. Dwalin stood before him and was speaking in a low, pleading voice.

“Thorin, they are dying out there.”

Holly ducked back behind the wall as Thorin looked up. She had never heard Dwalin sound so vulnerable. 

The hall fell silent, and Holly listened with bated breath. After a moment, Thorin spoke, “There are holes beneath holes within this Mountain. Places we can fortify, shore up, make safe. Yes.” She heard the faint clank of his armor as Thorin stood up. “Yes, that is it. We must move the gold further underground, to safety.” Footsteps, retreating further into the hall.

“Did you not hear me?” Dwalin’s demand caused the footsteps to stop. “Dain is surrounded. They’re being slaughtered, Thorin.”

“Many die in war. Life is cheap. But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend.”

“You sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon your head, and yet you are a lesser dwarf now than you have ever been.”

“Do not speak to me as if I were some lowly dwarf lord. As if I were still Thorin... _ Oakenshield _ .” His voice fractured and cracked, becoming raspy and soft as though he was afraid to speak the name out loud. “I am your king!” Over the echo of his shout came a metallic scrape that could only be a sword being drawn.

“You were always my king. You used to know that once.” Dwalin’s voice became so soft she had to strain her ears to hear what he said next. “You cannot see what you have become.”

“Go. Get out, before I kill you.”

A wavering, ringing silence filled the hall. Finally, scuffling footsteps sounded in time with her pounding heart, and moments later Dwalin marched out of the throne room, letting out a jagged, broken sigh as he left.

Dwalin, Thorin’s closest friend, couldn’t get through to him. Bilbo, who had been  _ so close _ to making progress before, had almost been killed trying to do the same.

Thorin, who had led them through peril and kept them all safe against insurmountable odds, was gone. And Holly did not know the dwarf who had taken his place.

At the very least she could apologize for everything she had done wrong. Holly knew her words would fall on deaf ears, but the old Thorin probably would have appreciated it. She owed him that much, at least.

Squaring her shoulders, Holly turned and entered the throne room. Thorin was sitting on the throne at the other end. The narrow walkway leading to the throne seemed a mile long, especially with the yawning chasms on either side.

_ Whose idea was it to design the room like this? _ she thought as she began walking. Her footsteps sounded small and pathetic as they echoed off the glowering dwarf statues lining the walls.

_ Enemy territory. _ The words seemed to glare at her from each of the dying torches, but she dismissed them with a shake of her head.

Thorin did not look up until she reached the end of the walkway. She tried not to flinch under the glare he cast in her direction. “What do you want?” 

“I—I want to apologize,” Holly said to the ground. She felt irrationally annoyed at Thorin’s tone and had to remind herself to stay calm. “For everything. While we were in Mirkwood, I was constantly challenging you, and you didn’t deserve that. I was being spiteful and disrespectful. And now…” She paused to keep her voice from wavering. “I made a mistake. I made far too many mistakes, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you.” 

It took far too much effort to meet his eyes. They were still clouded and devoid of the determination and steady compassion they once held.

“I’m sorry,” Holly tried again, as though it would make a difference.

“Stop. What is it that you want from me?” Thorin stood, his eyes blazing like lightning in a storm, though his voice remained low. “Your words are poison,  _ snake _ . You have done nothing but manipulate me for your own selfish desires, and you are lucky I didn’t cast you off that wall when I had the chance.”

Holly clenched her jaw until her teeth ached.  _ Calm. Stay calm. _

A new voice in the form of a low, resounding chuckle sounded behind her. “Mm, that stings, doesn’t it?” Smaug said. “Nothing hurts quite like the  _ truth _ .”

“Damn you,” Holly said.

Thorin’s eyes flashed. “What did you say?”

“I said,  _ damn you, Thorin Oakenshield! _ ” Holly shouted, her composure swept up in rage like leaves in a storm. She advanced onto the dais where the throne stood. 

_ Stay calm _ , the rational part of her mind pleaded, but she was no longer in control.

“You are more selfish and greedy than I ever could have imagined,” Smaug said from behind Holly, though hers was the only voice that echoed in the hall. “I respected you once, but now you are nothing more than a  _ monster _ .” Her eyes darted to Thorin’s hands, where they had balled into fists, and she laughed, though the sound was foreign and icy to her ears. “What, are you going to hit me? Go on, then. Prove me right.” 

Thorin moved swiftly for one wearing such heavy armor. He grabbed the front of her coat and slammed her against one of the pillars to the side. Holly gasped, the impact jarring her out of her rage.

“Monster, am I?” he snarled, his face inches from hers.

Her anger yielded to a thick, suffocating terror. She could see in his eyes that he meant to kill her. “Th-Thorin—” Her fingers scrambled for purchase on his gauntlets.

“Give me one good reason why I should spare your miserable life.”

Holly opened her mouth—she should be able to talk her way out of this—yet no sound escaped her lips. She couldn’t think of a way to escape. 

Why should she? She had brought this on herself. At least if she was dead she couldn’t make any more mistakes.

At least if she was dead, she would not hurt any more of her friends.

Then it came to her as she remembered the tears in Thorin’s eyes earlier that day—a good reason. A good person.

“I...I don’t have a reason why you should spare me. At least, not for my sake. But I think y-you and I are similar in some ways. And tearing each other apart isn’t what Bilbo would want. We wouldn’t  _ do _ that, would we—you and me? We would  _ never _ do that to Bilbo Baggins.”

Holly knew that some part of him still felt for Bilbo—how strong his feelings were was unclear, but she knew from personal experience that if there was one thing that madness was loathe to eradicate, it was love, no matter how malformed.

It was only when Thorin released her that she noticed his hands were shaking. “You are a coward,” he said, his voice not much steadier than his hands. “Leave this place, and do not come back.”

Holly straightened her coat and backed away from him, anger sliding back into place. Though Smaug had long since disappeared, she could  _ feel _ him smirking. Her legs seemed to move without her permission as she ran away from the echoes that ceased to soften with every repetition.

_ Coward. _

_ Coward. _

_ Coward. _

\---

Holly wasn’t quite sure where she had ended up when she finally stopped running. It was another long stone hallway. The walls were cold against her numb fingertips as she stopped to catch her breath.

She slammed her fist into the stone wall, feeling dull pain throb in her knuckles. She wanted to destroy something, to  _ burn— _

A low, rumbling chuckle sounded behind her and Holly spun around. 

"I must say, I am impressed," Smaug said with a smirk. "I doubt I could have done a better job myself."

Holly’s eyes widened. " _ You _ ." Everything she had done, with Thorin and Bard and Thranduil and the Arkenstone—

She'd been a mere puppet, and Smaug had manipulated her into ruining everything. 

The sound of heavy footsteps caused her to spin back around. She readied herself for a fight, terrified that Thorin or even Damon had come to attack her, but it was only Nori.

His eyes widened when he found her cowering against the wall. “Don’t tell me you actually went after him.”

Holly straightened and took an involuntary step back. “So what if I did? It was my choice.”

“And your choices are going to get you killed, apparently. What on earth has gotten into you?” Nori took a few steps toward her, and it took far more effort than she expected to hold her ground.

In that moment, the walls seemed to close in, and it felt as though the weight of the entire mountain had come crashing down. She was trapped here, with a group of dwarves that knew nothing of the dragon crawling around in her mind. They would all hate her if they knew. Perhaps they hated her anyway, because they couldn’t understand why she was acting this way.

“ _ Nothing _ has gotten into me. I already told you, I am fine.”

“Right, and I’ve got a third eye on my forehead.” When she didn’t laugh, Nori sighed and reached out for her arm. “Come on, let’s _ — _ ”

“Don’t touch me!” Her voice came out as nearly a shriek as she jerked her arm away and backed up several steps. “S-Stop trying to help me. You’re only going to get yourself hurt.”

“Holly, you’re not making any sense.”

“Just stay away from me.” Holly turned and began walking away as fast as she could without breaking out into a run. She had to leave Erebor. If she stayed any longer she would truly go mad. She knew where the side entrance was; it was just a matter of finding her way back to the area she was familiar with.

It was as though an invisible hand was guiding her. She made her way through the hallways quickly, and managed to find her way to the entrance, even while lost in thought.

Before she had made it out, she felt the dragon slither up behind her once more.

"Mm, you’re close to breaking, aren’t you? Regardless, you have been an outstanding pupil," the dragon said. "Easy to manage, at the very least."

Holly felt another upsurge of anger, but this time it was directed at a new subject. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I am going to get rid of you. And then I am going to fix this."

“ _ Fix _ ? Impossible. You and I...we were built only to destroy—nothing more.”

“Then I’m going to destroy you, if it’s the last thing I do.”

She would go to Ravenhill, and finish what Damon had started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bagginshield, anyone? Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought.


	28. Death Upon the Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty violent chapter, so be warned. And there's a scene near the end that is pretty intense. There's no rape or sexual assault but that part has a lot of similar elements. If you think this might bother you, skip the second half of the chapter.

**Chapter 28: Death Upon the Hill**

 

_ Gold _ . 

A sea of it lay beneath Thorin’s feet, stretching the length of the hall. Since their attempt to kill the dragon, it had cooled and solidified into a flat surface, only the barest of ripples betraying that it had ever been liquid.

And the voices had returned with a vengeance. Thorin distantly wondered whether they had ever left.

_ You sit here with a crown upon your head… You are lesser now than you have ever been… _

_ I respected you once, but now you are nothing more than a monster… _

_ The blind ambition of a mountain-king… _

_ I will not part with a single coin… _

The voices grew louder until they drowned out his own footsteps. Thorin looked down as a bright, ethereal glow caught his eye. The gold was rolling like waves—

_ He could not see beyond his own desire… _

_ As if I was some lowly dwarf lord… _

—caught in a storm, flashing blinding white one moment, and the next blackening so deep he thought he would suffocate. The voices came faster and faster, overwhelming and driving a deep, reverberating pain into his temples until— 

_ A sickness that drove your grandfather mad...Oakenshield...This is Thorin, son of Thrain,sonofThror…Iamnotmygrandfather…mygrandfather.YouaretheheirtothethroneofDurin… _

—Thorin doubled over in agony. The gold beneath his feet flashed and swirled, and he realized he was sinking, that the gold—

_ Theyaredyingoutthere.Takeback...takeErebor...Dainissurrounded... surrounded...is surrounded...Dainissurrounded… _

—was swallowing him up. He could not move his legs. A serpentine chuckle made him spin around with what limited mobility he had, and though Thorin could not see him, he knew the dragon was there, the dragon that had been hounding him day and night— 

_ Take back your homeland… _

—and Thorin knew that it was coming for him, and he could do nothing to stop it.

_ You are changed, Thorin. _

He felt tears prick his eyes. He tried to grasp the far off memory just beyond his reach—sunlight and oak trees and familiar laughter—anything to keep the gold from trapping him here forever.

_ I am not my grandfather. _

_ Is this treasure truly worth more than your honor? _

_ I am not my grandfather. _

An agonized scream echoed within the hall and resounded within his own skull, and Thorin realized that it was his own. Somewhere deep within, at the core of his being, an intangible  _ something _ fractured and crumbled, and the hall fell silent once more at the unmistakable sound of metal striking metal.

Thorin stared at his crown and the small dent in the gold where it had bounced off the floor. His head was still pounding, but as he looked upon the shimmering metal beneath his feet, everything seemed different, as if a veil had been torn from his face.

And he could see for the first time—

“I am not my grandfather.”

\---

Holly staggered once more as a swift, biting wind assaulted her body. Climbing the slopes of the Lonely Mountain up to Ravenhill was more difficult than she had anticipated, especially with a storm brewing on the horizon.

Down in the plain before Erebor, the battle raged on. It was clear the dwarves were losing, and she could see from the smoke and crumbling walls that Dale had been overrun. The sight made her stomach turn as she thought of Bilbo. Hoping that he was unharmed was too much to ask for at this point.

She turned her focus back to her goal—the dwarvish fortress. It stood silent and empty, an apathetic spectator to the carnage below. Strategically speaking, she was surprised no one had used it as a command center.

Regardless, it would take at least another hour to reach the fortress. Holly continued walking as a light snow began to fall from the charcoal clouds rolling in the sky.

Within an hour, the wind and the snow had picked up into the beginnings of what looked like a blizzard. Holly had thrown her hood up against the cold, but as she reached the watchtower she lowered it.

Ravenhill was a strange, asymmetrical mixture of towers, open courtyards, and bridges that led over several chasms running under the tower. There had once been a central tower at the edge of the cliff, but it had long since crumbled to a ghost of its former imposing stature.

Holly climbed the staircase leading to the tower, careful not to stumble over the cracks and gaps in the stone. She passed through an archway leading to a small courtyard, and was met with suffocating silence.

She crept further in, passing through a short hallway and into another courtyard. Shuffling footsteps caught her attention and she started forward, but the telltale grunt of an orc made her freeze. Holly almost tripped over her own feet as she retreated back into the hallway.

She pressed against the wall and watched a group of orcs pass through the courtyard and into another area, swinging their serrated blades as they walked. None of them noticed her.

Once they were gone, Holly crept out from her hiding place.

Why were there orcs in Ravenhill? They should have been at the battle, unless they had chosen the fortress as their base.

Holly inched into the courtyard. Damon must have planned this as a trap. But it wouldn’t make any sense for him to kill her outright.

“Holly?”

She spun around, heart leaping into her throat. Bilbo was sprinting towards her from the other end of the hallway, eyes wide.

“Bilbo.” Her face split into a shaky grin. “Are you all right?”

He ignored the question. “What are you  _ doing _ here? It’s not safe.”

Her grin faltered. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him about her nightmare, but now that she did, she was beginning to question her sense of urgency.

There was no logical reason for her to walk out in the middle of a battle to confront a madman. She should have waited for Gandalf, but she hadn’t, because…

Holly cursed. This was what Smaug had wanted her to do. He had tricked her.  _ Again _ .

Bilbo brought one hand to her arm. “You need to get out of here, now. You can explain later.”

She clenched her fists, agitated. Since she was already in Ravenhill, wouldn’t it be more practical to wrap things up now? Or was that what Smaug wanted her to do?

“I-I don’t know. If I leave, he might hurt one of you. I can’t allow that to happen.”

Bilbo shook his head. “If you stay here—”

“Then you’ll be making my life  _ much _ easier.”

The introduction of a new voice caused Holly to spin around once more, her body jolting as adrenaline surged through her veins.

Damon stood in the center of the courtyard, hands hanging loosely at his sides. The only thing that betrayed his casual stance were his eyes, cold and glinting a murderous black.

Bilbo stepped forward, pushing Holly behind him and drawing his sword in one swift movement.

Damon glanced at Bilbo and raised his eyebrows. “And you brought your halfling friend. It must be my lucky day.”

Holly clenched her fists. She had already resigned herself to a confrontation with the mage, but Bilbo’s presence set her teeth on edge. She could not allow Damon to hurt him.

“I have to admit—I was impressed to find you still alive,” the man continued.

“I'm not an easy person to kill.” Holly shifted so that she and Bilbo stood side by side. “Tell me how to break the spell.” She took another step forward. She had to keep the mage’s attention on herself. “There has to be a way.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “Oh, you really should listen when I speak. The spell can’t be broken. It runs in your veins.”

That was what Smaug had told her. “Then there has to be a counterspell.”

“There most certainly is—I’m sure you’re familiar with Galdor’s Third Law of Magic. Though I honestly have no idea how to cast it.” Damon stepped forward. Bilbo put a hand on Holly’s stomach, trying to push her back, but she held her ground. Showing fear would only be detrimental. 

“Then you’re going to find a way to cast it.”

Damon laughed. “You really think you’re in a position to be giving me demands? You never cease to amaze me, Holly. And you’ve presented me with a very unique situation. I’ve never seen two souls coexist entirely within one body. You wouldn’t mind if I were to study that a bit more, would you?”

“Holly,” Bilbo said in a low voice. “When I say ‘run’, I want you to run.”

Damon raised one hand, palm facing the two of them. The air around them began to thicken and tingle with invisible energy, a telltale sign of a spell about to be released. Holly didn’t bother to think, and simply reacted. She threw herself to the side, tackling Bilbo to the ground as a ball of vibrating energy shot past her head. It slammed into the hallway behind them, leaving a spiderweb of cracks behind.

Holly scrambled to her feet. Her mind swam with blank adrenaline, devoid of any rationality and providing a painful reminder that she had no idea how to win this fight. What she needed to do was stay grounded, but she felt the familiar chill of panic creeping through her brain and scattering her thoughts.

_ A plan. _ She needed a plan, but before she could summon another thought Damon was upon her, grabbing her by her coat and throwing her behind him. Her head knocked hard against the ground and left a ringing pain that blurred her vision.

She groaned and pushed herself up with one elbow. Bilbo had gotten to his feet and was clutching his sword with white knuckles, glaring in defiance at Damon as the mage’s raised his hand again.

Time seemed to slow. The dark energy building in the courtyard crept like the sand of an hourglass, while the adrenaline flowing through her veins seemed to double its pace.

Holly plunged shaking fingers into her coat and fumbled the handle of a dagger into her grip. She darted forward and sank the blade into Damon’s shoulder. He cried out in pain and twisted around, his other hand connecting with the side of her head and sending her to the ground once more.

A terrible cracking sound echoed beneath their feet. The whole courtyard began to rumble as large cracks appeared. Holly’s eyes widened. Damon’s spell must have misdirected and hit the ground. Damon staggered as the stone beneath his feet began to shift.

Bilbo took advantage of his distraction and rammed his shoulder into the mage’s abdomen. Damon stumbled backwards and skidded to a halt at the very edge of the courtyard. Behind him stretched a deep chasm. 

The stone beneath Bilbo’s feet was crumbling—he was too close to the edge. Holly grabbed him and pulled them both away from the increasingly unstable stone.

And with a great, resounding crack, the courtyard split in half, and Damon tumbled into the chasm.

The impact of the stone hitting the bottom of the chasm was enough to make them both flinch. For a moment they both sat there, breathing hard, Holly still clutching Bilbo’s shoulders.

Once the dust had settled, she let go of him and inched her way over to the edge. The snow at the bottom was scattered with broken chunks of stone, but there was no sign of a body. With any luck, Damon had been crushed under the rubble. 

Finally, Bilbo spoke, his voice coming out in a hoarse rasp against the howling wind. “I-I killed him.”

“You beat me to it.” Holly wiped the dagger on her dress and stuck it back into her pocket. Clouded judgement or not, she’d had the foresight to take one from the armory before she’d left. And it had saved their lives.

She turned and, seeing the stricken look on Bilbo’s face, tried to soften her tone. “You saved me. You had every reason to run away, but you did the difficult thing and stayed.” She moved closer to him and placed one hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s not easy to think of it this way, but you did the right thing.”

Bilbo nodded and reached up to cover her hand with one of his own. His eyes were still fixed on the chasm.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come up here in the first place.”

He tore his gaze away from the chasm and turning to face her. “Why are you here? I told you to stay inside the mountain.”

Holly pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze to the dust and snow settling on the fabric of her skirt. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you, but I had another nightmare. Damon threatened to...kill you all if I didn’t come meet him here. I had to do whatever I could to protect you lot.” She scratched at a bit of drying blood on her hand. “And I may have...been banished from Erebor. I know you told me not to, but I confronted Thorin, and…”

_ I respected you once, but now you are nothing more than a monster. _

Holly looked up at him, shame welling up in her eyes, but Bilbo didn’t seem as perturbed as she’d expected.

“Thorin rallied the dwarves and led them into battle about an hour ago. Last I saw him, he was here in Ravenhill, and he...he seemed better.” He gave her a trusting smile, which Holly tried and failed to return. “Perhaps your words had more of an effect than you thought.”

Holly didn’t reply. She was immeasurably relieved that Thorin had come to his senses, but it was impossible that what she had said to him had affected him in a positive way. 

Though that wasn’t entirely true. There was one thing she had mentioned that could have changed his mind, but she didn’t want to address that at the moment. 

“Which reminds me.” Bilbo walked over to where he had dropped his sword and picked it up. “There’s another orc army coming down from the north, and I need you to get out of here before they arrive, all right?”

“You’re still going to fight?”

“Yes.” Bilbo sheathed his sword and stood up straight. Holly couldn’t hold back a small smile. He didn’t look like a warrior, not by a long shot, but he did look incredibly brave.

He had certainly changed a lot, and she felt happy for him.

Holly knew what she wanted to say now. The words that had eluded her for so long seemed to have finally formed into something more comprehensible. “Bilbo, there’s something I should say, something I’ve always meant to say, but I could never seem to find the words. And since there’s a chance that we won’t—that we won’t see each other again, I might as well say it now.” Her resolve was draining fast, like the last few grains of sand in a cracked hourglass. “I, um…”

Saying those words would make everything so real...her own feelings, the pain of losing him, and the harsh reality that she had worked so hard to escape for so many years.

_ Pain. Heartbreak. Loss. Death. _

“I know.”

Holly looked up, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. “You...You do?”

“Yes, of course. It was a bit obvious, really.” Bilbo gave a half-shrug, eyes tinged with sadness.

Holly understood. But before she could even begin to reconcile that piece of information, a low, harsh cry sounded from somewhere within the watchtower. And with it came the reminder that they were not alone, that they were in the middle of a battle and this was not the time nor place to be talking about such things.

“I—” Holly took several steps backward, not wanting to take her eyes off him. “I’ll see you after the battle.”

“I’ll see you.” Bilbo nodded.

Holly finally managed to turn away. She made for the bridge spanning the chasm Damon had fallen into. As her footsteps echoed across the stone, more cries sounded from within the tower.

_ You and I...we were built only to destroy—nothing more. _

Holly stopped. If she left, would she be helping Bilbo, or abandoning him? She drew the knife from her pocket, watching the reflection of rolling grey storm clouds. She had a way to defend herself, to help him. But if her poor decisions ended up getting him killed—

The stone beneath her feet exploded in a flash of dark energy. Holly stumbled and lost her balance, the heat from the blast making her flinch. Even as she heard Bilbo scream her name through a cloud of dust and snow, Holly felt the stone tip and throw her from its surface and into the chasm.

\---

Thorin’s arms were shaking and burning as he held his sword against the jagged edge of the Pale Orc’s blade. Azog leered down at him with pointed teeth, the tip of his sword aimed at Thorin’s heart.

Thorin knew he was going to die. He had shed his armor before entering the battle, knowing it would only slow him down. But his death wouldn’t matter, as long as he was able to slay the Pale Orc and protect his people. It was the least he could do after dishonoring himself as King of Erebor.

If he were to die, he would die as Thorin Oakenshield.

All he had to do now was let go, to stop fighting. He would have just enough time to kill Azog before he bled out.

It would be an honorable death. His people would remember him as a hero. This sacrifice…

_...isn’t what Bilbo would want. We wouldn’t do that, would we—you and me? We would  _ never _ do that to Bilbo Baggins. _

Bilbo had been so relieved to see him alive on the battlefield. And Thorin had been relieved to see him as well—to see his endless forgiveness and compassion even after all he had done.

After Holly had forced him to confront his feelings, Thorin had begun to question what he wanted.

Did he want to choose an honorable death? Or did he want to choose his friends, his kin, and Bilbo?

For seven months he had chosen the mountain and the crown over his life in the Blue Mountains, his sister, his nephews, his closest friend. It was what any king would do.

It was what any king would do, but not Thorin Oakenshield.

Thorin let his grip on the blade of the sword fall slack and thrust up with his other hand, deflecting Azog’s sword to the side. The tip pierced his shoulder, the hardened metal breaking his chain armor and sliding through flesh and muscle and leaving a flame of agony in its wake.

Thorin pushed through the pain in his shoulder and swung his sword, beheading the monster.

A spray of black blood and white sparks washed over his vision. Thorin tried to stand as the white mass of muscle before him collapsed. Then the sword slid out of his shoulder and the next thing he knew was the sky, pale like frost and fading into a solid, peaceful dark.

\---

Holly choked and gasped for air. The ground had slammed into her body with enough force to drive the air from her lungs, and would have possibly killed her had it not been for the snowdrift at the bottom of the chasm. As it was, her ribs were likely bruised, if not broken, and her lungs felt as if they’d been deflated.

She couldn’t even cry out as chunks of rubble bigger than her body landed all around her with enough force to shatter her bones.

_ Damon. _ The bastard was still alive and had almost killed her for the second time in the past fifteen minutes. Holly tried to stand as panic replaced what little air was in her lungs, but her legs were too shaky to support her weight. 

Holly pushed herself onto her hands and knees. The twisting pain in her ribs almost forced her back to the ground. The snow bit into her palms as she struggled to move. 

She lurched forward and almost blacked out. When her vision finally cleared the snow and dust shifted as someone lifted her by the front of her coat and slammed her into the cliff wall.

Damon’s hateful eyes were the next thing she was able to focus on. Her reaction was almost instinctive—she lashed out at his face and throat, scratching and clawing in a desperate attempt to push him away.

But Holly knew she was too weak. Damon knew it too, and wasted no time in crushing her hands in one of his and holding her immobile.

“That’s all right. I’d be insulted if you didn’t try.”

He pinned one of her wrists next to her head and raised his knife. The next thing Holly knew was a tearing sensation in her palm, followed by the alarming realization that she couldn’t move her left hand. She didn’t remember screaming, but her throat felt raw.

She was trapped, helpless, cornered. The combined weight of that fact and the pain radiating through her body widened the fracture that had appeared within her mind. 

Once again, Damon’s voice broke through her hazy consciousness. “Do you think I could resurrect the dragon’s consciousness? I know he’s still in there somewhere. Hold still, this might sting a bit.”

He pressed one hand against her abdomen and a cold, numb sensation spread through her body, starting at the pulsing spot on her chest and frosting her skin with ice. The chill drowned out the sound of the wind howling through the chasm and the staccato gasp of her own hyperventilation. Holly could feel herself being pushed further under the icy water, away from consciousness, away from control. Desperately, she reached out towards the surface, but the chill intensified into a sharp pain that shredded through every nerve in her body until she could not differentiate between frost and fire. Somewhere far off, she could hear someone screaming.

And as the searing agony reached its climax, Holly felt something within twist and snap.

She reached up to wrench the dagger out of her hand, and remembered no more after that.

\---

The snow began falling thick and fast as Bilbo ran, the chaotic white flakes only adding to the buzzing panic he felt.

Perhaps Holly had known that she wouldn’t be able to make it out of the fortress alive. And that was why she had been about to tell him—

_ Why _ had he not followed her, made sure she was safe?

Bilbo flinched as a scream pierced the air. Damon was going to kill Holly. And he could do nothing but hope he could reach her in time.

There—at the end of the hallway was a steep path that he had spotted earlier. Hopefully that would lead him down to the bottom of the chasm.

Another scream sounded, paused for a moment as though she was taking a breath, and started again. He was sure his heart was going to leap out of his chest as he broke into a sprint.

_ Please, Holly. Hang in there. I’m coming. _

He had just reached the end of the hallway when Bilbo heard the uneven pounding of footsteps over his own heartbeat. He barely registered the rough gray armor of a group of orcs before something slammed into his temple, and ringing pain gave way to a solid, unyielding darkness.

Bilbo wasn’t quite conscious enough to feel his body hit the ground.

\---

When Holly came to her senses, the first thing she noticed was the wetness. There was a slimy film of  _ something _ coating her hands, spattered on her face, dripping into the snow.

Next came the red. Holly couldn’t take her eyes off the deep crimson staining the mass before her. It ran in little rivers and beaded in the snow, soaking into her dress where her knees were pressed into the ground.

Blood. A dark line of it was branded on the back of her left hand and wept smaller streams down her skin. Her other hand was soaked in the liquid and wrapped around the hilt of the dagger. The silvery blade was drowning in more blood that welled up from the flesh she had buried it in.

Holly noted the multiple stab wounds scattered like corpses in a field across the person’s torso— _ Damon’s _ torso—and there was blood on the snow and she was still holding the knife plunged into his gut and it was all over her face and hands and he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move because he was dead, and she had killed him—

Holly’s senses seemed to come in fragments and the next thing she knew she was backed up against the rock face behind her, gasping for air as her vision swam in streams of red and gray and blinding white.

_ You killed him. And now you’re going to die. _

Smaug’s voice was everywhere now, reverberating throughout the chasm and echoing within the cavern of her skull.

Holly couldn’t see the dragon. She couldn’t move her head to look around. It was as though his presence was crushing her, sharp claws digging into her shoulders and forcing her down.

_ You and I...we were built only to destroy—nothing more. No one is coming to help you now. Give in. _

A burst of pain exploded from the wound on her hand. She let out a low moan through clenched teeth and held it against her chest.  She needed it to stop, needed the pain to just  _ end— _

_ Get up. _

Her senses fragmented again. Holly didn’t remember squeezing her eyes shut, but now she forced herself to open them as a new voice sounded.

_ You have to get up. Come on, there’s no dignity in dying like this. _

It was her own voice, sounding stern and foreign and strangely welcome. Holly tried to stand, but her body remained immobile.

_ Of course you can move. It’s your body and your muscles respond when you want them to, so stand up. _

Another fragment. Holly was kneeling and panting. She pressed both palms into the snow and tried to stand again. The claws in her shoulders dug in deeper. Pain squeezed like a vice around her chest. She fell back to her knees.

“No...no.”

Holly wanted so badly to give in. The pain would stop, then. But how could she? After she had almost drowned, after she had learned to apologize for being rude, after she had bought her friend a gift, after she had almost fallen to her death  _ three separate times _ —giving in would mean it had all been for nothing.

Holly grit her teeth and pushed against the claws holding her down. Agony raked across her spine and set fire to her ribs for what seemed like days. Once the white-hot fire cleared from her vision, Holly realized she was standing and almost fell over again.

More fragments—footsteps. Holly stumbled past Damon’s corpse and settled into an unsteady rhythm that could barely pass as walking. After a few minutes, or hours, the world began spinning too much and she stopped.

Above her head, the cries and clashes of battle grew louder. If she stayed in Ravenhill, the orcs would kill her.

_ Run _ . Holly knew that was far beyond her capabilities at the moment. She had to try and walk, at the very least. She tried to take another step but her body had other ideas, and the last thing she knew was the sky, pale and inviting above her as she lay in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was pretty intense. I'm sorry. Thank you for reading and please leave a comment letting me know what you thought.


	29. The Final Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like this fic isn't already dark enough, there's mentions of suicidal thoughts and what I guess you could call a suicide attempt at the end of this chapter. It's a more passive attempt and doesn't involve self-harm/drugs/violence. However, if you think this will bother you, skip the final scene in this chapter.

**Chapter 29: The Final Problem**

 

She woke to snow on her lashes and a pale sky far above. Dark shapes swirled and flitted against the white-blue backdrop.

_ Eagles. Giant eagles. Am I dead? _

She coughed, sending a spike of pain through her chest. The smell of sulfur still lingered in the air, as did the crackling tension of a spell about to be released. She could feel the trapped energy swirling through her body. 

Holly’s vision swam as she dipped back into unconsciousness. When she opened her eyes, a familiar face was hovering over her.

“Holly, what happened?” Bilbo’s hands fidgeted just above her body, as though he was afraid to touch her. “Y-You’re covered in blood.”

“It's not mine.” Holly winced. “Except my hand.” 

Bilbo glanced at her hand, then drew back as he took in what she had said. “O-Oh.”

“You’re bleeding too.” A good portion of the side of his head was covered in blood.

“I’m fine.” Bilbo shook his head, hands still hovering. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Probably have a few broken ribs.” Holly clenched her teeth. The pain in her chest and her hand was making it hard to think. 

“All right. We need to get you to a healer.” He put one arm behind her shoulders and helped her sit up. “Can you stand? I-I can't carry you.”

She should have been able to stand—it was an awfully basic task. But at the moment it was all she could do to slump against Bilbo’s chest and keep herself from crying out at the pain in her ribs. 

“The orc army,” she managed, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to steady it.

“Don’t worry about that. You...” Bilbo paused, then seemed to decide against what he had been about to say. “What did he do to you?”

“I d-don't know.” She truly didn't know whether the spell had been successful or not. It was all too possible that she was still a danger to her friends. 

Holly began to cry, each sob increasing the agony in her chest as burning tears traced down her cheeks. 

If Smaug decided to take over, she would be powerless to stop him. She had lost every last bit of control she had over her actions and her thoughts. 

Bilbo wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Holly, breathe. You're safe now. Shh. You’re going to be fine.”

Another wave of pain sent more black spots swimming in her vision. She was shaking uncontrollably from a mixture of pain and fear and cold, the motion jostling her injuries further. Holly squeezed her eyes shut.

“Holly? No, no—stay with me. Please, keep your eyes open. You’re going to be all right. Holly? Stay…”

She was certain he was still speaking to her but it was impossible to discern what he was saying. She was too tired. Perhaps it would be best if she just relaxed.

\---

Holly could see golden, glowing eyes through the murky water.

She was at the bottom of the Long Lake. The town above was burning, illuminating the water with red-orange light. Although she was underwater, she had no trouble breathing. This fact did nothing to alleviate the pain from the wound in her hand, which was weeping blood. A black, oily substance mingled with the dark red liquid oozing between her fingers.

Smaug stared at her, golden eyes analyzing. “You think you have won.” A slow, malicious grin crept onto his face. “Perhaps your dwarves have won this battle, but your war with me is drawing to a close, and you were fated to lose from the beginning.”

Holly winced and cradled her injured hand in her other. “If I lose, I’m dragging you down with me. I won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“You may not have to wait very long, then.” She noticed the cracks in his armor, how the same oily substance leaked through his veins like ink on paper. “And if you manage to claw your way from the brink of death a second time, I will be waiting, and I will return to the world of the living.”

“You won’t.” Holly let out a ragged breath as more blood leaked into the water. “I’ll kill myself if it destroys you.”

Smaug let out a satisfied hum. “There we are. I did say it, didn’t I?  _ I will break you _ .”

Holly glared at him, her breath becoming labored and unsteady. “Hardly. ‘Broken’ would imply that I am not functioning properly. But I still have enough functionality left to finish you off.”

“And then you will die. What will your friends do without you, I wonder? Your dwarf comrades will cry, no doubt. Your halfling will cry, too.”

“ _ Stop _ .” He was doing it again, trying to sway her decision and rattle her with uncertainty. But this was one decision from which she could not waver—the dragon had to die, no matter the cost. 

Smaug let out a low, growling chuckle, but there was a hollowness in the sound. Above the lake, fire turned to ice and Holly let the cold and the pain soak into her bones until the water turned black.

\---

The next thing Holly knew was deafening quiet. The pain in her chest had subsided to a numbness that managed to scare her even more. She let out a rasping cough.

“Bilbo?” Another cough. Where was she? A lingering chill clung to her limbs, but the sound of the wind had disappeared. Her knuckles brushed against something soft and pliable.

Gathering enough strength to open her eyes, Holly blinked against white light and waited for her vision to adjust. Smooth yellow stone provided a soothing contrast to a brightness emanating somewhere off to the side.

_ That’s the sun, idiot. _

Lifting her left hand, Holly found bandages wrapped around her palm. Her delirious calm vanished once she realized that she couldn’t move her two middle fingers. Several attempts proved fruitless, and left her just as confused and helpless as—as…

The memory of what had happened in the chasm swept a wave of panic through her. Holly struggled to sit up, to stand up so she could get away, ignoring how her ribs protested rather violently. The door was on the other side of the room. Damon was fast, so she would need to run for it. 

No sooner had she made this plan than the door opened (a weapon, she needed a  _ weapon _ ) and Holly stiffened. She couldn’t do it, not another confrontation—

Bilbo walked into the room, eyebrows raising in mingled relief and concern as he caught sight of her. 

“You’re awake, thank goodness,” he said, striding across the room. “I was so worried when you passed out, and the healers said you were going to be fine, but I wasn’t quite sure…” He trailed off and frowned. “Are you all right? Besides getting stabbed, I mean.”

Holly relaxed and laid back, inwardly chastising herself. Damon was dead. She had no reason to be so terrified. “I’m alive, at the very least. But I feel numb.”

Bilbo nodded. “You, um, you were struggling in your sleep, so the healers gave you something.”

Her eyes flickered to the bandage on Bilbo’s head. “How’s your head? Did you get hit?”

“I’m all patched up now. You needn’t worry about me.” Bilbo lifted one hand to squeeze her arm, and that was when Holly realized how thin the fabric of her sleeve was.

“Where’s my coat?” She was only wearing her dress, and a quick glance around the small room confirmed that her coat was nowhere in sight. 

Bilbo shrugged. “They must have gotten rid of it. It was all covered in blood, anyway. We’ll get you a new one soon.”

Holly had never told him where she’d gotten the coat in the first place. It was stupid, to attach sentiment to inanimate objects, but she felt a familiar pang at the loss anyway, like the twinge of an old wound.

Somewhere outside the building, a crash sounded and Holly jumped. Such a reaction had become almost instinctive by now and she didn’t even notice until Bilbo said, “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Holly averted her gaze. She’d already had one enemy come back from the dead to haunt her.

A seething pain, unlike anything she had experienced before, sent shockwaves through her arm, and Holly let out a whimpering cry. She clenched her hand and held it against her chest, breathing hard.

_ If you manage to claw your way from the brink of death a second time, I will be waiting. _

Eventually the pain and the ringing in her ears subsided and she realized Bilbo had one hand on her shoulder and was speaking to her.

“—infected? Can you hear me?”

Holly took a shaky breath. “I’m all right, I just…” She needed to get out. “I need more medicine. To help with the pain.”

“I’ll get you something, then. I’ll only be gone a few minutes.” Bilbo dropped a light kiss to her forehead and headed for the door.

Holly rubbed both hands over her face. She remembered what she had dreamed—the dragon, the blood, the black substance in her wound. In truth, she should have realized it sooner. A poisoned dagger seemed typical of the arsenal of a dark mage.

She should have realized sooner that she’d been hit with a generous dose of Morgul venom.

\---

Most of the fallen were gone from the streets. The elves had taken their dead and returned to Mirkwood soon after the battle had ended, leaving the men of Dale to clear the rubble from their broken city. The sun left a blinding glare on the snowdrifts, and splashes of black and red painted the worn stone of the streets.

Bilbo winced as the side of his head gave a nasty twinge. A healer had bandaged it for him but a dull aching sensation still pounded in his right temple where he’d been hit.

As soon as the world righted itself again, Bilbo continued down the street, looking for the building where all the medical supplies were stored.

Watching Holly fall from the bridge had been terrifying. Seeing her lying bloodied in the snow had been worse. But what had scared him the most was the look in her eyes when he had walked into the room. Her entire body had tensed up and her eyes had widened in the sort of desperate panic he’d thought only belonged to cornered wild animals. Whatever had happened up in Ravenhill seemed to have taken something away from her.

A panicked yell broke him from his thoughts with a start. Around the corner, more shouts sounded.

Heart pounding, Bilbo moved towards the noise, hand going automatically to his sword (when had that become a habit?). A crowd of armed men had begun to grow in the center of the street, but even their height could not conceal the massive form of a great furry beast. It let out a low growl, but made no move to attack.

_ Beorn _ ?

Bilbo’s gaze traveled upwards to a smaller form resting on the beast’s broad back. A river of blood ran down one black-furred shoulder. He recognized the mane of dark hair streaked with silver and felt his heartbeat falter.

_ Not him, too. _

Fíli and Kíli pushed their way through the crowd, calling out to their uncle. At the same time, Dwalin burst in from the other direction. Although Kíli’s arm was in a sling, he helped Dwalin lift Thorin down from Beorn’s back while Fíli shouted for a healer.

Bilbo trailed behind them, feeling smaller than ever as they made their way towards the healing tents, Kíli and Dwalin supporting their barely-conscious king while Fíli ushered people out of the way.

The healer made them wait outside. Dwalin cursed the man once he went back inside. Bilbo sat with the three dwarves, listening to them talk but not really hearing what they were saying.

“I thought he was with you.”

“We left you and Thorin to scout out the lower towers! How were we to know that you split up?”

Fíli broke in, diffusing the tension between the other two. “No one is to blame here. Thorin made the choice to fight Azog on his own. We can only hope—we can only hope he lives to see the victory he has earned us.”

“He will live.” Kíli’s tone burned with a youthful passion and optimism that seemed foreign in the face of such desolation. “He has to.”

The four of them fell into a fidgety silence. Fíli scratched at the red-stained bandage on one arm. Dwalin began pacing. Bilbo closed his eyes as his head started to pound again.

When the healer finally let them in, Bilbo hung back to give Thorin a moment with his kin. He wasn’t sure what he would say to him when he did get the chance to speak. Besides their brief encounter in Ravenhill, the last time Bilbo had seen Thorin, he had been trying to throw him off a wall.

Bilbo looked up and realized that Kíli had stepped aside and Thorin was staring right at him from where he lay on the makeshift cot, pinning him under his ice-blue gaze.

“Um.” He swallowed hard, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

Thorin turned his gaze back to the others. “Give us a moment.”

Dwalin shot Bilbo a pointed look as the three dwarves filed out of the tent. He barely had time to ponder the meaning of such a look before Thorin addressed him.

“I would take back my words and my deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do.” Thorin paused and winced. “I...I was too blind to see. I’m so sorry that I have led you into such peril.” 

Bilbo finally found his voice as he stepped closer. “No, no, I’m glad to have shared in all your perils, Thorin—each and every one of them. I...you’ve done a great deal for me, letting me come with you. And I forgive you. Of course I forgive you.”

At those few words, Thorin seemed to relax, some of the pain leaving his sturdy frame. “Thank you, Bilbo.”

Bilbo blinked. He could count on one hand the number of times Thorin had called him by his name instead of ‘burglar’ or ‘Master Baggins’.

After a moment of hesitation, Bilbo laid his hand on Thorin’s arm. “You should rest. I’ll come back to check on you later.” He needed to get back to Holly.

Thorin nodded, his composure faltering for half a second as a flash of pain passed over his face, before his impassive gaze returned.

Feeling shaken yet relieved, Bilbo left the tent and headed for the house (if you could call it that—one of the walls had been reduced to rubble) where all the medical supplies were stored. He grabbed the medicine he needed and hurried back to Holly.

“Sorry that took so long, Thorin came back badly hurt and—” Bilbo stopped short in the doorway. “Holly?”

Her cot was empty, and there was no sign of her anywhere else in the room. And Bilbo could only stand there, wondering why she had run away this time.

\---

Holly hadn’t run far—she stood on the upper levels of Dale, watching the surviving soldiers line up their fallen comrades.

They’d run out of sheets to cover the bodies with, and she could see dozens of slack, pale faces all in a row, one after the other. How long before she was just another bloodless face among the rest?

Holly flexed her left hand and winced. Her two fingers still wouldn’t move on their own.

Her actions had caused everything to crumble. Bilbo had almost died, Thorin had been on the brink of irreparable insanity, and her utter  _ foolishness _ had nearly set a dragon loose on Middle Earth.

And Damon...Holly shivered. She had wanted him dead, but the way she had done it terrified her. She had completely lost control in that moment. Even in defeat, he had taken away the one thing she had always relied on to keep her safe. 

And without that, what was keeping her from turning on her friends?

Holly gasped and doubled over as a burning sensation flared in her hand. Instead of fading, it branched out through her veins, leaving a ruthless trail of fire up her arm. It spilled out into her chest and spread like a wildfire through her body. How had Kíli been able to endure this?

Holly opened her eyes. Somehow she had ended up on the ground. She let out a soft curse.

_ Pathetic. _

“Holly, what on Earth are you doing up here?”

She grit her teeth and straightened back up, though she decided against trying to stand again. It took enough effort just to lean against the wall. “Just enjoying the view.” Her voice came out hoarse and uneven.

It took far too much effort to make eye contact with the wizard standing a few feet away. Holly received a stern tilt of the head in response. 

“Bilbo is looking for you.”

“I know.” Despite her attempts to keep her voice steady, Holly felt tremors rake up her throat. Bilbo was looking for her, just as he had that night at Laketown. Once again, she would have to abandon him.

“You are hiding something,” Gandalf said.

“I’m dying.” No need to beat around the bush with the wizard. He had to have seen enough death for hers not to bother him too much. “I was stabbed and dosed with Morgul venom. I’m assuming I have until sunset before the poison—before its effects become permanent.”

At her words, Gandalf’s expression softened. “And you haven’t told Bilbo?”

“No.” She didn’t want to see the look on his face when she told him that she had to die. Either way she would disappear from his life. Holly clenched her fist, digging her nails into her skin. Either way she would end up hurting him. “Will you tell him? When I’m gone?”

“You will tell him yourself. We will find someone to heal you.”

Holly let out a mirthless laugh. “No, I can’t let that happen. Damon made a mistake.” She lifted her hand in front of her eyes, gazing at the stained bandages wrapped around her palm. “He gave me the one thing that would allow me to defeat Smaug once and for all. The Morgul venom will counter the dragon blood in my veins. Odds are I won’t survive the process, but I can’t risk finding out if Damon’s spell was successful or not. I won’t allow Smaug to return to this world. I-I have to die if I want to protect my friends.”

It felt so final, to say it out loud. For so long she had been obsessed with protecting herself, even if it meant causing others pain. Now she was focused on the opposite.

And another, more selfish part of her wished for an easy escape from the pain and worry that had plagued her since the death of Smaug. When she closed her eyes for the last time, she would never have to worry about Damon or Bilbo or the dwarves ever again. 

Gandalf inclined his head. “Then you will be remembered as a hero.”

“Don’t make people into heroes, Gandalf. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them. I’m not doing this for the people in Dale, or the elves, or anyone else except my friends and myself.” Pain sparked all the way down to her fingertips as she stood up. “Please tell him for me.”

And before her resolve could dwindle again, Holly gathered her strength and began walking. She had one last journey to make before she could stop.

\---

The waters of the Long Lake had been cleared of ash and debris. Holly could see now, through the crumbling remnants of Laketown, the slumping corpse of the dragon.

She took a seat on the snow-patched grass that had been flattened by hundreds of panicked footsteps. Here, it was quiet and empty. No one would hear her scream when the poison took its full effect.

The walk down to the lake had been painful and tiring. She wondered how she had made it at all —she had nothing left, no adrenaline to keep her going .

Holly watched the wind ruffle the surface of the water. The sun was setting across the lake, casting a long dark shadow behind her body.

An hour passed. Another bout of agony roared and crackled to life.

She thought of Bilbo and the dwarves. She loved them all, and despised the thought of hurting them with her loss, but it was better than causing damage for the rest of her life. After this, they would be safe.

Her sister would have shaken her head and told her to find another way to fix this. Perhaps she could have found another way, if she had consulted another wizard, or one of the elves —but it was too late. She couldn’t go back now.

Holly turned her head and looked at the Lonely Mountain. A sudden urge to cry out flared within her. Perhaps someone would hear. She turned away and closed her eyes. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, followed by a low, soft wind and another, stranger sound, like whispers just beyond her reach. Holly felt snowflakes on her fingertips, and raised her face to the last kind rays of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a sad chapter. I'm sorry. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought. It helps me out a lot!


	30. Two Weeks Later

**Two Weeks Later**

 

It was snowing again. There were flakes in his hair and melting on the sleeves of his coat. Bilbo dodged a wagon full of rubble and passed through an archway into one of the narrower streets of Dale. Even after only staying there for a couple of weeks, he had learned the layout of the city and its shortcuts well enough. He had needed to, after becoming a messenger of sorts to help with reconstruction.

A man carrying a stack of wood bumped into him, and Bilbo felt an automatic apology fly past his lips, even though he hadn’t been the one at fault. He didn’t blame the man, though—none of the workers in Dale would be looking out for someone half their size wandering alone through the streets.

Bilbo stopped by a half-filled hole in the outer wall, where Bard and five more men were sorting through the rubble and putting the usable pieces back where they belonged. A memory accompanied by a pang brought back the image of a different wall of rubble, made of gray and dark green stone, the top of it  _ so high up _ —

Bard turned and waved as he stepped down from the wall. “You have swift feet, Master Baggins. What did Gerrick say?”

“He can’t spare any more stone,” Bilbo replied. “But another wagon should be arriving from Erebor soon.”

Bard nodded. “We can wait until then.” He turned and surveyed the wall, then said, “Take the rest of the day off. We’ll handle the rest for now.”

“Are you sure?” Bilbo asked more out of courtesy than anything else. 

“Of course. We appreciate your help.” Bard hesitated again, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a small rectangular object. He offered it to Bilbo. “Here. I found this in one of the libraries, and it wasn’t damaged too badly. It’s only an empty journal, but I thought I would give it to you, since...” He straightened the arm holding the book. “It might help.”

“Right.” Bilbo forced down the lump in his throat as he accepted the book. “Thank you. Thanks.” It was only when Bard cleared his throat that he realized that he’d drifted off. “I—thank you,” he said for the third time.

As Bilbo set off down the street once more, the snow began falling harder and faster, the big white flakes caught up in a stubborn wind. He gripped the book tighter against his chest, then slipped it into his coat pocket as though the bundle of leather and paper would ward off the biting chill.

\---

The door opened and a gust of cold air swept a scattering of snow across the room. Bilbo walked into the silent room and closed the door behind him.

“You’re back early.”

Holly watched him from her seat at the kitchen table, right hand clasped around a mug of tea. Her eyes were half-clouded with thought and watched him with a careful neutrality.

“Bard gave me the rest of the day off.” Bilbo walked over to the table and snuck a glance at her mug. Full, and cold. It was going to be one of those days, then. “I got something for you.” He placed the book on the table. 

Holly used her fingertips to slide the book across the wood. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bilbo took a seat across from her and they fell into an empty silence. Everything they said to each other had become flat and formal. It was as though they had traveled back in time to seven months ago, back when they had been strangers. Though back then Holly had at least had a bit of life in her. The dull eyes drifting around the room were nothing like what they had been in Bag End.

“Look, I…” Bilbo paused a moment to gather his composure. “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks since—since the battle.” It had been a couple weeks for him, at least. Holly had finally woken up in only half that time. “But you should try and talk about what happened. Or write it down. W-Whatever you can remember.” Perhaps that would help. There had to be  _ something _ that would help her.

Holly’s left hand twitched. Her gaze flickered to the journal, then back to the wall. A full minute passed. “I...I don’t...”

“You don’t have to write a lot,” Bilbo said. “I know this must be hard for you, I just—”

Holly shook her head. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She stood and paused a moment to steady herself, then made for the door at the back of the room.

She had made this into a habit by now. She was either staring into space or sleeping, and Bilbo couldn’t seem to talk her out of it. The only time she seemed to come back to herself was after a nightmare, and those nights were filled more with terror than anything else. He stood and followed her. “Holly.”

She stopped, the fingertips of one hand resting on the doorknob.

He reached out to her, hands resting on her upper arms. “I’m here. All right?”

Holly reached out for him as well. Her uninjured hand brushed against his arm, but she pulled back a second later, as though she was afraid to touch him. She stepped out of his grasp and opened the door. The only thing that broke the silence between them was the  _ click _ of the door shutting.

Bilbo went back into the front room and picked up the journal, thumbing through it. Blank page after blank page flicked past, like each of the days since the battle. There was too much left unsaid, too many questions left unanswered. Perhaps one day they would all come out all right on the other side, but that all seemed to be miles away.

A distant memory came to him, a mixture of shrouded sunset and the giddy exhaustion of fading adrenaline.

_ I think everyone deserves a second chance. _

Holly had certainly gotten her second chance at life, but it had come at a far greater price than either of them could have imagined. And what bitter irony that the cause of all of her suffering had been the thing to save her in the end. 

Gandalf had explained it all—the poison, the dragon, and Holly’s decision to leave without saying goodbye. When they finally found her, it had nearly been too late. She had spent a week on the brink of death, barely breathing and oblivious to the cold and his barely-audible prayers.

It was a little better now. At the very least she was breathing normally.

Bilbo set the journal back on the table and looked out the window.

The snow swirled outside, pouring grief and cold onto the crumbled city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this fic! It took me about a year to write and was such an amazing experience. If you'd like to read the sequel, it's on my fanfiction.net account here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11712435/1/Lómring


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